


Fortior Fati

by The_Erudite



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-06
Updated: 2013-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23534851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Erudite/pseuds/The_Erudite
Summary: The tale of a tactician found without memory by a Ylissean lord who then joins that lord in protecting the Halidom from the dark forces set upon it. That tactician's name is... Morgan?
Relationships: Azur | Inigo/Marc | Morgan
Kudos: 3





	1. What's Old...

"This is it," declared the blue haired Ylissean royal, "our final battle!" She raised Falchion and prepared to charge, "Are you ready to change our fates, Morgan?"

"Ready!" she declared, almost involuntarily. The pair hurried forward into the shadowy, inky blackness that obscured the path before them. Finally, past the halls of tattered tapestry and ruined walls, their target was coming into view. There he stood, the incarnation of the Fell Dragon, Grima, a sickening violet aura pouring out from his form. Morgan's eyes locked with the creature and, all at once, her mind froze. It couldn't be. She was locked in place, finding herself completely paralyzed by the form that stood before her.

"Morgan! What are you doing? Make ready!" Lucina shouted as she continued her advance. Morgan turned to the sound of her voice and saw a colossal purplish spike emerge and shatter the ground beneath her. Lucina wailed in agony as the magically charged appendage tore right into her chest. Still, Morgan could not bring herself to move. She stood in silence as her friend fell to the floor, clutching at her missing side and struggling desperately, pitifully to crawl forward at the monster. Morgan felt a shock to her head, followed by the collapsing of her weight to the ground.

Darkness. Clouded. Everything black. No vision, sight, hearing. The feeling of pure nothingness. Suddenly, a voice: "But, dearest cousin, there must be some aid we might furnish! Owain Dark does not pass by a young woman in distress!"

Then, a reply; a different tone, feminine, "And what, exactly, do you propose we do, Owain?"

Morgan's eyes finally parted themselves. She saw above her a shadowy sky, but beneath a pleasant field. Over her stood a young man with curiously dark purple hair and a cocky disposition, his eyes fixated on her. To his side was a rather tall young woman, sapphire-blue hair flowing over her shoulders, dressed in what seemed to be unreasonably fancy clothing, but plated with armor as well. The pair widened their eyes as Morgan's opened.

"I see you're awake now," the woman noted with the tiniest smile on her face.

"Well, hello there," added the boy, his tone obviously shifting to something more sultry.

"There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know," chuckled the young woman. The boy complimented her with a quick laugh. "Give me your hand," she instructed, extending her own hand out to the collapsed form of the young girl.

Taking it, Morgan was pulled up close to the young woman. Morgan nodded to her gratefully, "Thank you, Lucina."

"So, you know who I am, then," Lucina's smile had faded.

"Actually," Morgan's eyes shifted to each side, "No, I really don't. All I could remember was your name, and that only upon seeing you."

"Curious," she remarked simply, evaluating the girl who stood opposite her, "What is your name, then?"

Morgan scratched the back of her neck delicately, embarrassed to admit that she had no idea.

"You don't know your own name?" Lucina took up an inquisitive stance.

"Hold, cousin! The omniscient Owain Dark has heard tell of the symptoms present in our young acquaintance hither!" the purple-haired boy cried out.

"You mean you think you know what's wrong with her?" Lucina clarified.

"Indeed," he folded his hands together, "Yonder fine lady is stricken with…" He paused a moment, then threw his arms out in either direction, "AMNESIA!"

" _I_ think it's called 'lying,'" scoffed another woman behind the pair who Morgan had not noticed at first, "Or perhaps 'stupidity.' Do you honestly expect us to believe you know milady's name, but not your own?" Morgan looked at the woman carefully. She seemed quite large, but Morgan quickly realized that she was only about Lucina's size, if not smaller, and was completely covered in thick armor. She had curiously faded emerald hair, and wore a stern glare, looking right back into Morgan.

"I'm sorry. I can provide no other explanation," resigned Morgan.

"Now, now. I thank you for your efforts, Kjelle, but we cannot turn up our noses at a potential ally," Lucina gave Morgan a piteous smile.

"'Ally?' Honestly, Lucina, we don't stand a chance if you plan to recruit every hapless innocent you find on the streets. There is no way to validate this young lady's story. No way to tell if she's a spy, or anything else of the sort. I would greatly recommend moving on," commanded the stern woman.

"Duly noted, Kjelle, but I'm not in the business of making enemies among those who still live. Surely, you can understand," Lucina withdrew her own commanding tone.

"I am duty-bound to serve milady," Kjelle withdrew, not the least bit pleased.

Lucina turned to Morgan again, "You'll pardon dear Lady Kjelle the Wary."

"A title I wear with pride," scoffed the woman, "Gods forbid even _one_ of us attempts to keep an appropriate level of caution."

"I can understand your concerns, milady. I would see to no less myself," admitted Morgan, "All I can do is to promise you that I am speaking the truth."

"And we've scarce little reason to doubt her, don't we, Kjelle?" Lucina impressed.

"By your word, milady," Kjelle sighed.

"Gods have mercy, Lucina, look!" came a cry from Owain. The party turned their heads in the direction he pointed and saw smoke rising out of a small tan cobblestone village just to the north.

"The entire town is on fire!" exclaimed Lucina, "It must be the Risen! Kjelle, Owain, we need to go, now!"

"What about her, milady?" asked Kjelle, gesturing toward Morgan.

"Unless she's on fire too, she can wait," Lucina managed, already tearing away from the group. Kjelle followed quickly after her and Owain brought up the rear, taking a final moment to look into the girl's eyes before hurrying away.

Lucina leapt forward and plunged Falchion into a nearby Risen warrior, who collapsed and dissipated into sickly purple smoke immediately. She caught another as it approached her, axe raised, and held Falchion to where the axe's blade met its hilt, holding it in place, then kicked the Risen to the ground and cut across its throat. She looked to each side, seeing Kjelle barely occupied, jabbing her lance through the Risen as if they were paper, and Owain managing as well, dashing each to his side with a typical declaration of a move. In her concentration on the others, however, Lucina lost focus and did not notice the archer drawing his bow squarely at her head… until he was cast aside in an instant by a flash of golden light. The owner at the end of the trail of light was none other than Morgan, who stood, a little surprised that she had succeeded, and then rushed toward Lucina.

"You can use magic?" Lucina asked, preparing to swipe at another warrior.

"Apparently," Morgan remarked simply, leafing through the tome in her arms again.

"Right," Lucina's face tensed, "maybe I'll just keep a little further out of the way."

"Oh, come on," pouted Morgan, "I know how to control it. Let's see… like this…!" she commanded, striking away another archer with a quick burst.

"Gods, the Risen are going to overwhelm them here!" Lucina spat, discouraged.

"Not if we keep this up," chuckled Owain, tossing another of the monsters from his blade.

"Not the time, Owain," her voice soured even further.

"I think he may be right," Morgan called, knocking down yet another of the purplish creatures, "if we can seal off the gate to the town while stemming the tide of these things, we can put out the fire, at least."

"It's certainly worth a try," Lucina nodded, preparing to rush the gate.

"Don't-!" Morgan cried, "All the soldiers over there have swords. Send the woman with the lance, Kjelle. She has an inherent advantage!"

"A-all right," Lucina nodded, less than assured, "Kjelle, hit the gates! Seal them up, don't stop until you do it!"

"Yes, milady!" she responded over the unsettling shrieks of the Risen. Kjelle charged ahead and knocked her foes' blades to the wayside as she effortlessly bowled through them on the way to the gate, wayward strikes glancing off of her like butter knives on stone. Before long, she had reached the gate and began to turn the mechanism that would lower it. Morgan appeared before her, tome at the ready. Kjelle hesitated a moment, fearful of the woman who stood before her as she saw the jolting magic emerge from the tome.

"I've got you covered!" she called as the bolt struck a foe to Kjelle's left.

"My gratitude," she nodded, resuming her position and operating the gate. As the base of the gate hit the ground and Kjelle released her grip, a cheer emerged from Lucina, Owain, and Morgan.

"You!" called Morgan, "Uh, Owain! You're quick on your feet; grab a couple of buckets and start helping the townsfolk put out these fires!"

"By your command, fair maiden!" Owain agreed, and began doing just that. He dashed along the streets as his comrades continued to fight and washed out the fires on the street level quickly, leaving only some embers behind as more and more of the villagers came to his aid. Eventually, they began to bring forth ladders and create makeshift scaffolds, whatever time afforded, to reach the flames at the roofs.

Before long, the battle was over and the fire quelled. The village was not without damage from the attack, but certainly it fared better than any potential outcome had the party not intervened. The group met outside the town, to the copious thanks of those who lived within.

"You performed well today. You've earned my thanks and my trust, Morgan," the smile had returned to Lucina's face.

The scowl had not left Kjelle's, however, "You can't be serious! We still know nothing about her!"

"We know she risked her life to save a small Ylissean village, without any prompting or promise of reward. I'm trying to be more like my father, Kjelle, and I know this is the sort of thing he would do. Not to mention, she's handy with a blade, tomes, and she's a sharp wit. The girl deserves a chance, at least," Lucina demonstrated, not prepared to hear anything further.

"Verily, milady, is there anything which thy incredibly powerful and most beautiful form cannot do?" Owain laughed cheerfully.

"Thank you, Lady Lucina," Morgan bowed, "I just recalled that my name is Morgan, if it is of any consequence to you."

"Indeed, it is. Will you accompany my friends and I back to Ylisstol, Lady Morgan?" Lucina continued.

"I suppose, given I've nowhere else to go. Where is Ylisstol, exactly?" Morgan adjusted her cloak.

Kjelle scoffed derisively again, "Someone pay this actor, she plays quite the fool."

"Kjelle!" Lucina sighed, exasperated, "Honestly! Ylisstol is the capital of the country in which you now reside, the Halidom of Ylisse. It would come as no surprise that you don't recognize international borders now, given the state of the world." She placed a hand over her own chest and sighed resignedly.

"I suppose that was my next question," Morgan settled, "What were those monstrous things? Are they commonplace in such lands?"

"They are called Risen," Lucina set forth a serious gaze into Morgan's eyes, "and they were far from commonplace until a few years after my birth. They are horrid eldritch monsters made from the bodies and souls of the dead and the damned, reanimated into slaves to serve the bidding of the Fell Dragon, Grima." A single tear made its way down Lucina's snow-white cheek as she continued, "Their only business in the world is to bring an end to all life."

"Gods, but that's horrible!" Morgan was shocked.

"But we are here to stop them and save the world!" Owain declared, posing with one foot on a stump, triumphantly, "We are Chrom's New Shep—"

"Don't say it, Owain!" Lucina cried to her cousin. He dropped from his pose and regarded her solemnly. "The truth of the matter, Morgan," she continued, almost inaudibly, "is that we are losing hope. All our efforts seem utterly wasted. No matter what we achieve, what we reclaim, within days it is lost again."

"That is… troubling indeed," Morgan walked toward the sapphire-haired girl and placed a hand on her shoulder, "But, if you're to be a leader, you must remain strong. I will stand at your side to help you best these creatures as much as I'm able. My father told me never to lose hope, for as long as hope is present, nothing is lost!" She accentuated her adage with a bright, innocent smile.

Lucina could not help but to share in it, "Thank you, Morgan. Your words give me strength. Come, we'll go to Ylisstol and gather the others. I think you'll like them."

The group began setting off northward, over the still pleasantly green hills beneath the murky skies above. Owain turned to Morgan as they walked, each behind Lucina and Kjelle, "I do not believe we were formally introduced, milady. I am Owain Dark, cousin of Lady Lucina and the Scion of Legend, one of the last bearers of House Ylisse's bloodline!"

"You say that like it's a good thing," Morgan glared at the man curiously, "And really, 'the Scion of Legend?' You know we aren't children, right?"

"W-well… I just thought," Owain sputtered.

"I'm happy to have your assistance, Owain, but please try to handle all this with a bit more tact," she sighed. She giggled slightly, "Even if it is kinda funny."

"R-right. Sorry," he breathed, "I thought you did an excellent job today as well." He looked back to her with a sheepish smile.

"Thank you, Owain. At any rate, we should focus on getting to Ylisstol," she turned her head forward.

"Of course," he scowled, also turning his head to face Kjelle's back.


	2. Another Life

_"Lucina," spoke the blue haired man, "This is your uncle."_

_"Chrom…?" the young man at her father's side bore a confused smile._

_"My dear friend, you've done so much for my family. You deserve a place in it. Certainly, I feel as though you are a brother to me," the Ylissean lord smiled warmly._

_"Chrom… thank you. I'm glad I could stand with House Ylisse for so long," he admitted, breathlessly._

_"Say 'hi' to your uncle, Lucina," Chrom commanded gently._

_"Hi, unca," came the broken, melodic voice from the young girl. A small smile etched its way across the young man's face as he looked back to the tiny girl at his feet._

_"Do you want to give your uncle a hug, Lucina?" Chrom pressed._

_Her face widened with glee, "Yeah!" she cheered, extending her arms and gripping at his legs, her head barely above his knees._

_"That's no hug. Come here," the young man said with an indelible sweetness in his voice, lifting the girl by her arms and holding her tightly a moment. Lucina took a look into the man's eyes. They were deep brown, dark, almost melting as she stared into them, and warm, like his entire disposition. There was a lot to take in from those eyes. There was experience and knowledge weathered into them, and a happiness Lucina could feel projected onto her, but there was also a terrible feeling of… sadness? Regret? Impossible to tell. She wondered what the man was thinking, that much was certain. He gave her another smile before setting her back down._

_"There's a good girl," Chrom smiled after her, "Come on, then. Let's get you back to mommy."_

_"Mommy!" she repeated, chasing after her father's feet._

_"She's a beautiful child, Chrom," the young man smiled again, looking toward his friend._

_"I know," Chrom reciprocated the gesture and put his hand to Lucina's back, edging her forward._

* * *

"Milady."

Lucina's head drew upward at once. "Huh?" she muttered sleepily.

"I am terribly sorry to have had to wake you, milady, but the others insist on seeing you before they will meet with our new guest," Kjelle reported from the doorway.

"Right," Lucina yawned, "Thank you, Kjelle. I'll be just a moment."

"Milady," she nodded deferentially and closed the door as she stepped out of the room.

Lucina sighed as she roused herself from the bed. It was one of the few places she could still find peace amidst the hell the world had devolved into. At first, she thought it almost disrespectful and narcissistic to take her father's bed, the Exalt's bed, as her own chambers, but she could not find rest in any room but the one that still bore some semblance of her father, try though she may. She adjusted the blankets on the large, plush bed, straightening them out into perfect right angles, the sort of tediousness she lamented dealing with when chided by the other royals, but that now gave her a sense of comfort and normality. A full-size mirror sat at the end of the room. Lucina gazed into it, evaluating herself. She looked tired. She wore the same clothing from the previous day, as she did every day, her hair was tousled beyond any salvaging, and her eyes were deeply set and hung in a low, dark purple beneath her brow. She might even be considered to seem scared by someone outside herself. She probably was, but there could be no showing it. As best she could, Lucina took a brush and straightened her hair, then stepped out into the hall of the castle. All of her friends, the sons and daughters of former Shepherds, awaited her there in uncharacteristically orderly fashion.

"Good morrow, all," she extended disinterestedly.

"A good morning to you as well, almighty cousin!" Owain shouted in reply. The others remained silent.

"You regard me as though I were a funeral pyre. Is something the matter, everyone?" Lucina addressed the silent mob.

"Er… There was a… problem, Lucina," came an uncomfortable bark from within the group. Lucina recognized it as Brady's voice. As she picked him out of the crowd and prepared to address him, she was made aware of another presence, or, rather, the lack thereof, "Where is Inigo?"

"Inigo's… er… well… That's the problem," Brady admitted gruffly.

Lucina's mind lurched in refusal to accept the answer. She walked closer and repeated, "Where is my brother?"

"I… don't know, Lucina. I'm sorry," he shook his head.

"What do you mean you 'don't know?' When did you see him last, Brady? What happened?" Lucina insisted, drawing within a foot of the man.

"I… we were fighting off a horde of Risen. And I mean a lot. Twice as many as were around Arena Ferox. There was this cliff with a rope bridge across it, the only way across it, far as we could tell, and…"

"And…?" Lucina watched Brady slink before her gaze.

"Your brother told us to run, Yarne and I, before the Risen could take us out… and…" tears were visible in his eyes, "we did. I'm sorry, Lucina! We ran like a pair of scared chickens and left your brother alone with all of them…! He cut the bridge after we got over. I'm sorry!"

Lucina inhaled deeply. She had expected bad news, she would have been more surprised if the news were good, but she did not expect her own brother to be the first casualty among them. For a minute she felt she could punch Brady. Pin him to the wall and strangle the life out of him for being such a coward. But there was no point in such vitriol now. They needed to preserve the life of those who still lived. "It's all right, Brady. Thank you for telling me, at least," she sighed.

The group remained stunned to silence, casting sideways glances at one another hoping each would be willing to break the stark quiet.

"We have a new member to join our midst, today," Lucina declared at length. The group roused their attention back to her immediately, "Her name is Morgan, and I think she will be a valuable addition to our party, given her demonstrated experience with tactics. Please, give her a warm welcome."

Kjelle peeled back the imposing gates to the castle, and Morgan stepped in, undaunted. She took in each of the people standing before her, clearly evaluating them quickly but carefully.

"Morgan. Glad you could join us," Lucina declared from the opposite end of the large hall.

"As am I," she smiled, walking forward to join the group.

"Care to introduce yourselves, everyone?" Lucina suggested, stepping down.

The group congregated into a line, each clearing their throats and preparing to speak to the redheaded girl.

Kjelle stepped forward first, "While we have met, I would like to formally introduce myself. I am called Kjelle. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Yes, pleased to meet you," Morgan nodded. Kjelle stepped aside.

The purple-haired boy from before leapt forward, "Greetings, fair lady! I—"

"Good to see you again, Owain," Morgan dismissed. His face sunk as he hastened out of the way.

"Nice to see a new face," grinned a girl with dark brown hair. She leered at Morgan excitedly, hoping to find something, it seemed, "I am Cynthia, Slayer of Evil!"

"Do all of you have such a penchant for theatrics?" Morgan asked in a tone that made even she uncertain as to whether she was joking. "Nice to meet you, Cynthia," she smiled affably as the girl walked away.

"Uh… How d'ya do?" grumbled a rather caustic voice as a boy with a scar drawn down near his eye approached Morgan. She couldn't help feeling rather unsettled by him. "Name's Brady. Uh, you okay, sister? Yer lookin' kinda green."

"I'm fine, thank you. Nice to meet you, Brady," she managed a smile. He hurried out of her sight.

A rather muscular boy who appeared to be coated in fur stepped forward very cautiously, "Uh, hey. I'm Yarne."

"Hello, Yarne. What's that stone you're clutching so protectively?" Morgan remarked of the pinkish orb clasped in his palm.

"I-It's my beaststone. It allows me to transform. I'm a taguel, you see. We can all turn into animals of one kind or another. Or, we could, if I wasn't the last of us.," his eyes searched the room nervously.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Morgan's lip turned apologetically.

"Just keep me from dying and we're square," he gave a nervous laugh before scuttling away from her.

Another girl walked forward, bearing long hair and a visibly unsatisfied disposition, "I'm Severa. Remember the name, you'll probably be shouting it when you're about to die on the battlefield. And if I like you, I'll come to your rescue like my legendary mother. And, if not, well, good luck," she smiled sardonically and moved out of the way without awaiting a reply.

 _Ooh, friendly_ , Morgan chuckled to herself.

"I'm Gerome," a man with silvery bluish hair muttered curtly before walking away unprovoked.

 _Doubly so_ , Morgan remarked internally.

Another man walked forward, looking taller than the rest, likely helped by the rather comically large black pointed hat he wore. Looking at it, Morgan couldn't help but desire to try it on. He regarded her carefully with narrow eyes behind a small pair of eyeglasses, then, in as neutral a tone as Morgan could conceive, stated, "Good morrow, milady. I am called Laurent. It is my hope that you will find your time among us pleasing and that you will be able to provide us a great benefit with your tactical prowess."

"I could hope for no more myself, sir," she nodded, thanking him. He allowed a small smile as he joined the others out of the way.

Two smaller girls picked up the rear. The shorter of the two pushed the other forward. "Hello..." the girl squeaked. She was rather stalky and quite pale, and looked to be constantly cringing in fear, her pale blue eyes narrow and full of worry. She seemed prepared to collapse under no visible duress whatsoever.

"You'll forgive Noire. She can be rather timid," the shorter girl explained.

"Nice to meet you," Noire managed under bated breath.

"You as well," Morgan did her best to soften the girl's disposition with a warm smile. She didn't offer a response. Morgan turned to the shorter girl, who looked no older than twelve, "And you? May I have your name?"

"Nah," she replied.

Morgan cocked an eyebrow, "Uh... Why not? Have I offended you somehow?"

The girl rolled her eyes tremendously, "Ah, gods dammit, no! My name is 'Nah.' N-A-H." Her tone made it clear this mistake had been repeated one too many times for her liking.

"Oh, terribly sorry. Well met, then, Nah," Morgan tried to ease the girl.

"Right. Good to meet you, too," Nah finished a little more happily, joining the others along with Noire.

Once all of Lucina's friends had stepped to the side, she herself stepped forward, "And I am Lucina. The… last living descendant of House Ylisse's bloodline."

"And the rightful Exalt of Ylisse, the title of our ruler," Kjelle added.

"Indeed. Thank you, Kjelle," Lucina said, in truth, not all that thankful.

"Didn't you tell me on the way here that there were twelve of you?" Morgan asked, counting the heads of the group.

Lucina hung her head, "I did. It has come to my attention that one of us will not be returning."

"And just who told you that?" came a cheerful voice from the castle door. Everyone turned their heads, Morgan among them. Her eyes found a young man, rather tall, indigo hair neatly parted and cropped, standing triumphantly in the castle entrance, hands on his hips, eyes the same color as Lucina's.

"Inigo!" Lucina leapt forward to wrap her arms around her brother.

"There, there. No tears now, Ms. Exalt," he laughed lightly, patting his sister's back.

She stepped back and looked at him angrily, "I thought you were _dead_! Don't you _ever_ pull a stunt like that again, you hear me?"

"Yes," he made no effort to seem impressive now, lowering his head a bit, "I know. I'm terribly sorry, Lucina."

She shook her head, "Just try to stay alive. If not for your sake, then for mine, all right?" He nodded. "Good. We have a new member today, if you'd like to meet her," she turned away, voice breaking slightly.

"I thought I might have seen a fresh face," he smiled casually, looking right toward the redheaded girl, "I'm Inigo, Lucina's brother."

"Nice to meet you, Inigo. I'm Morgan," she curtseyed.

Inigo snickered a little, "What was that for?"

"What?" she looked around.

"The curtsey. Why did you do that?" his smile persisted.

"I was under the impression that I was in the presence of royalty," she tugged at her sleeve nervously.

Inigo laughed more tremendously, "I suppose that's so, but I've never actually had anyone bow to me before. These aren't the sort of times when those types of formalities are customary."

"Oh, right. I just thought…" Morgan sank, blushing in embarrassment.

"Quite alright," Inigo extended his hand toward hers, narrowing his eyes, "especially from one so lovely as you."

"Thank you," Morgan accepted uncomfortably, but did not touch his hand.

"Hah!" Severa scoffed from behind Inigo, "Not even five minutes, and you've already frightened her off, you numbskull." She sauntered over to Morgan, "Don't worry, Inigo is like this with everyone- every _thing_ \- female. He has no self-control whatsoever."

"I appreciate the compliment," Morgan shrunk, not wanting to dig any holes for herself. Severa glared at her and walked away while Inigo flashed a bright, toothy grin before moving out of the way to join his sister. Morgan attempted to fraternize with the remaining men and women of the group for several minutes before she was beckoned away by Lucina.

"How can I be of assistance, milady?" she asked, approaching a rather fine wooden table that Lucina and Inigo were hunched over.

Lucina lifted her head and pointed to a map beneath it that lay on the table, "I won't lie to you, Morgan. We're in trouble. We need to gain ground, plain and simple. And we need to do it fast if we're to have any hope."

"I understand. I'll do all that I can," Morgan nodded, putting herself to Lucina's side and poring over the map.

The three of them, Lucina, Morgan, and Inigo, continued to strategize, plan, prepare, devise, and deign all that they could from the map as the day wore on. The others never left the castle, as Morgan noticed. Lucina explained that the castle, as one of the few safe places left after the effective fall of mankind, acted as a barracks for the group when they had nowhere else to be or to go. As the sky grew pitch black above them and all the candles in the castle hall were burning down into puddles of wax, Morgan let out an extraordinarily tired yawn. Lucina affirmed that they had done enough for the day and instructed Morgan to follow her, whereupon the girl was led to a small room marked by a very fine, well kempt dark wood desk and a rather soft-looking, cottony bed. This was to be her room, Lucina explained to Morgan, who was more than happy to immediately remove her cloak and lay herself down beneath the blankets, saying a final goodnight to Lucina, who blew out the room's only candle as she left.

* * *

_"She's beautiful, isn't she?" said the woman with the red ponytail._

_"Absolutely," remarked the young man at her side._

_"Go see daddy," encouraged the red haired woman._

_Morgan obeyed, walking to the young man shakily and mimicking, best she could, "Daddy!"_

_He laughed gleefully, warmly, as he scooped her up, "Well, good morrow, my lovely little darling." He stared into his daughter's eyes, "You know your father loves you very much, right?"_

_"Wuv you too!" exclaimed the bright eyed little girl in his arms. The man smiled broadly and embraced the little girl tightly. She was so warm in his embrace, so comfortable. She could still feel his arms braced around her even as he broke the hug to kiss her forehead. She giggled wildly as he did so, causing him to repeat the action until she was laughing hysterically, completely relieved of breath. "And she's so smart. Aren't you, honey?" he coddled._

_"Smart! Daddy's smart!" Morgan repeated gleefully._

_"And you are very smart, too, Morgan," he insisted._

_"Smart!" she parroted again, "Morgan's smart!"_

_"You don't owe anyone anything, you know," Morgan heard the red haired woman say as her father bounced her in his arms._

_"You know that's not true. I have to be there for him. I have to be there for me," the young man breathed, clearly discomforted._

_"You don't have to," the woman insisted, "you can stay with us. No one will force you to go."_

_"It's been decided. I'm getting my answers," he replied, dissatisfaction staining his voice._

_"…Don't be gone long," the woman cautioned after a moment. Morgan hadn't noticed it at first, but now it was very clear she was holding back tears._

_"I won't," he dismissed. He stared into his daughter's eyes once more, "Stay with mommy now. And be safe."_

_"Mommy. Safe," she repeated._

_The young man nodded, wondering how much his daughter was actually understanding. Setting her down next to her mother, he instructed, "Be a good girl. Do whatever mommy asks you to."_

_"Good girl," she nodded._

_"I love you, Morgan, sweetheart," he laid another kiss on her forehead._

_"Daddy… go?" her plaintive voice inquired._

_"Yes, honey," he turned to face the door._

_"Come back. When?" she tried to sound as much like her parents as she could._

_He regarded her sorrowfully, regretfully, "I don't know yet, honey. Not long, though, okay?"_

_"Okay," she repeated, "Love you, daddy," she stretched her arms toward him. Realizing her intention, the young man lowered himself to her eye level, whereupon she grabbed his shoulders and kissed his forehead. He stood to kiss the red haired woman on the lips and left. The door shut quietly behind him._


	3. The Ties Formed

Morgan awoke with a great stretch of her arms and inhaled deeply as she lifted herself from the bed. She shook her head from side to side in an effort to wake herself further and felt her bangs slapping across her face. She brushed them aside and stood, picking her cloak up from where it was hung and brandished it contentedly before slipping her arms back through it. She regarded the dark wood desk carefully a moment. Something about the thing seemed familiar, and yet, not correct. As if it was missing some essential part of it. She couldn't bring herself to an answer and shrugged in resignation as she stepped out into the castle hall, where she found Lucina, who appeared to be pacing impatiently. "Lucina?" Morgan hailed from several feet away.

The Ylissean princess froze, startled, "Oh, Morgan. Good day."

"Is something the matter?" Morgan asked, drawing nearer.

"No. This is… a big move, though. We need to be ready," she sighed, folding her hands together.

"Ready, sure," Morgan flashed what seemed to be a cocky smile, putting a hand to her shoulder and rolling it, "but not nervous. We can't afford to have a nervous commander."

"I suppose you're right," Lucina let out another sigh, letting the ghost of a smile take her face.

Out of nowhere, Kjelle appeared at her side, "Shall I call the troops to attention, milady?"

Lucina, clearly more used to such instances than Morgan, who was visibly startled, replied, "They are our comrades, Kjelle, not just 'troops.' But, yes. Ready everyone. Today's the day." Kjelle nodded and proceeded into a room, shouting loudly to the audible disdain of whoever was inside. Within a few minutes, the other eleven soldiers, disheveled and fatigued though they might have been, made their way into the hall, straightening hair, tightening belts and clasps, and setting their eyes forward.

"My friends," Lucina addressed the crowd from the upraised platform near the throne, "today is the day we begin our journey to reclaim our home from these monsters. To stand above them and declare that we are made of mightier mettle, that we can rise above whatever calamity they may endeavor to visit upon us."

"I… been thinkin' about that," came a gravelly voice from within the group. Each side parted to reveal Brady standing to face Lucina, "Don't get me wrong, Lucy-girl, I wanna kill those purple pieces o' garbage more than anything, but… can we really do this thing? I mean, ya done said it yerself already: anything we manage to take away from those… things, they end up takin' somethin' else of ours. It's a vicious cycle, Lucina, and I don't know that there's anything more we can do for it."

"That's precisely the attitude we can't afford to have if we want to move forward," Morgan approached Lucina, looking down onto Brady's face disapprovingly, "I've seen it already. These monsters feed on the kind of despair you're spouting right now. The key is to never lose hope. Nothing is over until it's over. You have a choice: you can wallow in self-pity and let those things take over the world unabated, killing everyone, including whatever friends and family you may have, or you can stand up and fight! No matter how futile it may seem, you can die sitting with your head between your legs, or you can try to live standing like a man!"

The room recoiled in stunned silence at the redheaded girl's proclamation. Even Lucina, the group's intrepid commander, was uncertain as to how she might proceed. After a moment, a clap arose from Morgan and Lucina's side, "Now that's the kind of talk I can get behind!" Ingio strode confidently toward his sister and the redhead at her side. "Quite a speech. And I must concur; why not take the fight to those dastards? It's not as if we're doing anything to help ourselves by sitting on our hands here," he remarked, looking at Morgan.

"Thank you, Inigo," she smiled to the prince.

"Really, are the rest of you so craven?" he projected to the group. The response of "No!" was boomed back by several of the crowd. "Then let's get out there and make some change happen!"

The group now rallied beyond their fears, all began to set out of the castle at Ylisstol, preparing in their own ways for the conflict that was to come. Some spoke to one another, others remained silent, hoping to Naga that this would not be their last day on earth. None were afraid, however. Not anymore.

"Lucina," Morgan began, marching astride the Ylissean princess, "I don't wish to cause you any discomfort, but do you suppose you could tell me how exactly this world came to this disastrous state? I would hope it might jog my memory a bit."

"Not a favorite subject of mine, but an important one, no less, I suppose," Lucina sighed, "Very well, then." She cleared her throat.

"My father, as you may have ascertained was, at one time, Exalt of Ylisse, meaning he managed its military as well. He had just completed a campaign against the great Conqueror Walhart of Valm and was preparing to return to Ylisse. At the time, however, there were some strange goings-on coming from Plegia, Ylisse's westerly neighbor, with whom relations were poor. The Plegians were Grimleal; they worshipped the Fell Dragon as a deity and endeavored to resurrect him. Most often, they were dismissed, given that their aspiration was rather impossible. Impossible, that was, until one of my father's comrades was tricked into giving away the Fire Emblem to Plegia's king, Validar. According to the stories I was told, my father was killed by his closest friend, and that event turned the tide in favor of the Grimleal. Validar succeeded in giving life to the Fell Dragon. With my father dead, the Fell Dragon sought to completely eliminate House Ylisse's bloodline, and so attacked my mother and my Aunt Lissa and Uncle Donnel afterward. I struggled to save them in the castle halls, but I didn't stand a chance; the scores of Risen cast me aside and they were both killed within minutes. I lay on the floor of the castle, unconscious while the rest of the world descended into the hell it is now. The Fell Dragon made a mission of killing all of the parents of everyone in our group, flying between continents and raining constant death upon the world. Life, as it seemed to exist, was snuffed out altogether in that time. But, a few of us rose from the ashes of our lost world and resolved to strike back against the Fell Dragon, whatever the cost. And here, you see us all now. In effect, you stand with the last of organized humanity."

"Gods," Morgan's eyes narrowed at the conclusion of Lucina's tale, her head turning forward, "that sounds horrible. Would that I knew where I was at the time."

"That reminds me, Morgan," Morgan's head turned back to face her comrade, "You mentioned some words from your father the other day, does that mean you remember who your father was?"

"Not really," Morgan sighed, her forlorn eyes falling to the ground, "It's just something I know he used to say to me. I remember a lot of things like that, but I can't recall his face."

"What about your mother?" Lucina insisted.

Morgan paused and considered for a moment before shaking her head, "Nothing doing. It's like I can remember their existence, but once I get to their faces, they're completely veiled in shadow, like it's being hidden from me."

"Well, we'll figure it out together, don't worry," Lucina placed a reassuring hand on Morgan's shoulder.

"Or we'll just make some new memories for you," Inigo smiled suggestively, copying the gesture.

"Inigo! Don't you have some planning to undergo?" Lucina fumed at her brother.

"That I do. And that's why I'm up here. I wanted to see if I might talk strategy with our master tactician," he frowned in mock incredulity.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm far from a 'master' at my craft. Now, my father…" Morgan dazedly cautioned.

"Well, you're far and away the best we've got, Morgan. So, please, if you will, I'd very much like to get your opinion on some plans of attack," Inigo persisted.

"As you wish, I suppose," Morgan resigned, stepping to the prince's side.

He removed a tattered map from his back pocket and unfolded it before his face. Pointing to a rounded plain near a river, he began, "My intention was for us to prepare our attack here…"

"Nonsense!" Morgan exclaimed, "You've an entire forest right behind you. Prepare within it, it will give you an advantage over any ambushers, and significantly reduce the chance of you being ambushed to begin with."

"See?" Inigo laughed, "I'm glad we have you to tell me these sorts of things. Now, then, my next move was to wade through the river…"

"A river?!" Morgan became even more incredulous, "In an offensive that relies on speed?! Really, Inigo, have you any sense at all? No, go around the thing. It'll take you less than an hour from there. Wading through the river could take as much as two hours and could result in unanticipated casualties. I won't have it."

"A master," Inigo insisted, looking back up into Morgan

Night had fallen and the group was lying in wait, preparing for their plan to unfold. Morgan and Lucina huddled behind a small rock formation, their comrades also hidden away at various locations to their respective sides.

"Ready, Morgan?" Lucina whispered.

Morgan's face showed absence, but she replied, "Yes, I'm ready."

As if on cue, there came a sound of rustling several yards away. Morgan watched as the young prince, Severa and Brady at his side, emerged quickly, stealthily from a line of trees, plunging his blade into a Risen in front of him. Lucina looked to Morgan, inquiring on the next phase of the plan. Morgan nodded in affirmation, rolling out from behind the rocky edifice and tossing a bolt at a Risen that had been standing near them. The bolt crackled and sizzled as it struck, drawing the attention of a few other Risen in the area. They screeched horribly with interest and tore off to investigate the sound. Within seconds, a sheer mass of the creatures had drawn up toward the boulder behind which Morgan and Lucina sat.

"Now!" came the command from Lucina.

The concealed members of the group leapt forward, over their cover, and smashed into the wall of shocked Risen, as Inigo's force led into the mob from behind and cut down the vicious monsters quickly.

"Nice work," Inigo complimented Morgan, wiping his blade with his sleeve.

"That was the easy part," she determined, marching straight ahead.

Morgan pointed to the center of an even larger horde of Risen, where there stood one that stood out as taller, and clearly more powerful, than the rest.

"They seem to have a commander among them. If we could eliminate him, we would have no trouble scattering the remaining troops," Morgan explained.

"The Risen? They're just a bunch of soulless monstrosities, Morgan, they don't have a chain of command!" Inigo rejected, examining the field.

She shook her head, "Not so. I can prove it."

"You'd better hope you're right," Inigo sighed.

She certainly did. The gravity of the fact that Morgan was now playing with the lives of her comrades had only really struck her at that instant. But, she recalled, this was something her father had spoken to her about. Pressure couldn't be allowed to consume a strategist. Better to relax and make the best of the situation than constantly shrivel in fear of the potential for the worst. Morgan summoned Noire to her. Noire was, reportedly, a very skilled archer, and while, Morgan had concluded, Noire's skills at the bow held few practical applications in immediate combat, she could be a very practical asset for picking away key targets, provided she was adequately protected. Morgan explained her intention to Noire: she was to take all the time she needed to prepare a perfect shot to eliminate the Risen Chief, at which time the remainder of the force would collapse in upon the leaderless creatures. Noire was nervous to hear the pressure placed upon her, but was relieved to see that she would not be joining the front lines.

Noire had set herself up and repeated a few prayers that she would not miss. Lining her bow up, she prepared to let the bolt fly. Every eye in the group was drawn to the silvery line that flew off as Noire withdrew her hand, and watched as it struck the larger Risen directly in the head, causing him to collapse and disappear immediately. The remaining creatures shrieked and, to the group's surprise, fled in every direction. Those that approached the young liberators were silenced easily, only a fraction of the force they had initially encountered. A cheer came up from within the group: for once, the Risen had made a loss! In just a few short hours, a camp was established, and the land was proclaimed for the young heroes.

As the group congregated around the fire, night surrounding them, Morgan looked cockily to the prince, "I hope you understand that this means I win."

"I've never been quite so happy to be wrong," he ignored her dig, smiling back. The entire group laughed at that, happiness to be alive painted plainly on their faces. Relieved laughs and smiles were thrown out constantly throughout the evening. Before long, the wearied sons and daughters of the Shepherds began to return to their tents. Eventually, the group filtered down to two at the fire: Morgan and the Ylissean prince. "Morgan," he began, "might I tell you something in confidence?"

"Naturally," Morgan nodded.

"Morgan… I'm frightened. I don't know how my sister keeps a straight face through all this. I'm worried I'm about to be the man who let humanity die with every step I take, and the pressure is… It's crushing me, Morgan," he sighed, placing a hand on his forehead, leaning forward.

"This from the only man who supported my words earlier this morning?" Morgan regarded him earnestly.

"Morgan… The happiness, the bravery, the damnably stubborn optimism… It's all a front. I'm not strong and carefree, I'm a sad little boy who's lost his mother and father and is beginning to question whether it's worth it to carry on, gods help me," a single stream of tears began to draw slowly along his cheek.

"Inigo…" Morgan watched the prince carefully, then let her face fall forward, "It's not as if you're the only one. I'm frightened, too, Inigo. And don't think I don't miss my parents, either. I hardly even _remember_ them, Inigo. Do you have any idea how lonely it is to not even feel as though one has a family to return to? I don't have any friends among you, either. I'm just a little girl, acting like she knows what she's doing, hoping to all the gods she hasn't already made a dreadful mistake."

"Not a chance," Inigo resolved beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"It's the truth, Inigo, I—"

"No, the thing about not having any friends among us," Inigo corrected, "You're my friend. And the others will warm up to you, you just have to try, and give it a little time. I know my sister is already envious of that smile of yours; she hasn't stopped talking about what a bright, hopeful girl you are, and how thanks to you, troop morale is at an all-time high."

"I think you're just flattering me now, but, I thank you, regardless, Inigo," Morgan laughed.

"There it is," Inigo remarked.

"There what is?" Morgan looked around.

"That smile. It's a real gem, Morgan. You ought to show it off more often," Inigo looked to the redhead appreciatively.

"Maybe, once this is all over, then there'll be plenty of time to smile," she smiled again, slyly this time.

"'Once this is all over?' And they said _I_ was hopelessly optimistic," Inigo smirked, laughing gently at the girl. She didn't respond, only chuckled slightly as she stared into the fire. "Anyway," Inigo stretched, rising from the ground before the fire, "I should be getting some sleep. And so should our chief strategist."

"I will," Morgan nodded, "just give me another couple of minutes." Inigo nodded in affirmation and took his leave of her.

True to her word, Morgan stared at the fire for a few more minutes, thinking deeply to herself about her parents. Was there anything she could remember? There had been that dream, the previous night, but did it mean anything to her? The redheaded woman and her young companion, were they her parents? And why, try though she may, was Morgan unable to recall their faces? Fatigued of the tribulation, Morgan resigned from the thought and walked toward the tent provided for her, laying down on the small cot in the center of it and shutting the flap.

"Lucina,"

The Ylissean princess jolted up, sweat already glistening on her face, she looked to the source of the call, finding it in a figure mostly obscured by the shadow of night. "Who are you?" she called into the darkness.

"You don't recognize me?" the man stepped forward. Now Lucina recognized him, all right. The face the man bore, it was a face she had seen elsewhere before, but she did not fully comprehend who the man was.

"Your face… strikes me as familiar, sir, but I cannot place your name," she reported.

The man sighed and laughed, "Likely because you were never truly given it."

Lucina watched the man carefully, still studying his face. There was something unsettling in his voice… as though it were unnaturally deep, echoing to some degree. Suddenly, realization caught up with her, "Uncle?"

"The very same," he smiled in reply, "How fare you, young lady Lucina?"

Again, Lucina watched the man carefully. She recognized him, but she could not help but to feel unsettled, not like with her parents. He was… too different from them. "Better than most," she replied dejectedly, "but why do you come to me as a thief in the night?"

"Why else?" the man smiled, "I wish to aid in your endeavor."

"Uncle? I appreciate your willingness to assist us, but it is likely your body is weak," Lucina fed him a piteous stare.

"Worry not for my body," the man dissuaded, "I don't plan to fight among you, only to offer you a plan."

"A plan? Of what sort?" Lucina cocked an eyebrow at her uncle.

A twinkle appeared in the man's eye, "The gemstones. I can provide you with their locations. If you were to gather them, you could perform the rite of Awakening and seal the Fell Dragon, could you not?"

"Naturally, but that is a rather serious undertaking," Lucina admitted.

"And you aren't prepared for a serious undertaking so as to save the world as we know it?" her uncle looked askance.

"No, you're right I suppose… I'm just… fearful," Lucina clenched her fist.

"You worry for your friends," the man putting a knowing finger to his temple, "a sentiment I can empathize with, however, failure to take risks at this stage could result in the end of the game, you understand? We've our back against the wall, and our opponent is about eleven moves away from checkmate."

"Twelve," Lucina corrected, "we added one more to our ranks the other day."

The statement aroused the man's interest, "Oh? And what is your new comrade's name?"

"Morgan."

The name caused the man to double back, clearly disturbed by a consideration, which he kept from Lucina, "Lucina?"

"Yes, uncle?"

"This 'Morgan,' does she have ruby-red hair? That shines in both the sun and the moon? Eyes that reflect soft daylight onto her snow-pale cheeks as if they were pools of the clearest water?"

"I don't know that I would put it quite so poetically, but that does seem to describe her, uncle," Lucina scratched the back of her neck.

The man nodded, "She is very important, Lucina. Keep her safe."

"As you command. Now," Lucina sighed heavily, "the gemstones…"

"Right," the man nodded, withdrawing a map from within his cloak, he began to mark off the locations of the stones, as well as describe and paint routes for groups to take to collect the stones.

"We can't all go together?" Lucina regarded her uncle confusedly.

"Not in the time you have left, no. The Fell Dragon knows where you are, as well. Even now, he draws near," the man concluded curtly.

"I see. Then we must make ready," Lucina stared straight ahead, scanning the map.

"Indeed, you must. And now I must take my leave of you," the man assented.

"You will not stay with us?" Lucina was highly perplexed by her uncle.

"I cannot," he dismissed.

"Uncle?" Lucina begged in the darkness.

"Yes, child?" he returned.

"I wanted to know, before you go, if I may submit a rather odd request," she blushed.

"I'm listening," he awaited her.

"I know that you are not precisely family, sir, but my father counted you among his closest allies. I was wondering if, perhaps, that I might feel more… at home, you would grace me with a simple kiss."

The man examined the blue-haired girl curiously, but smiled warmly as he recognized the infant who had once sped around Ylisstol emulating her father, who he had picked up in his own arms and held, "Of course, child." He knelt slightly to even himself with her forehead and kissed it gently. "It is my hope," he turned and began to leave, "that my lips do not betray you, Your Highness."

"Uncle?" Lucina called to the darkness. Futile, he seemed to have disappeared into thin air.


	4. The Hanging Shadow

_"Mother?" Morgan put down the figurine she had been examining._

_"Yes, darling?" the woman replied. Morgan noticed a part of her lovely, flowing red hair was stained black._

_"When will father return to us?" she begged of her mother, as she had every six months since his departure._

_The red haired woman stopped in her tracks. Why didn't she ever anticipate the question? "I don't know, honey."_

_Morgan stood, stamping her foot, clenching her small hands into fists, "That's what you say every time! You're his wife; you have to know something! I want to know when father is coming home! When?!"_

_"Morgan, dear, calm down," her mother soothed, "I don't know. Please, just relax. I know he'll return to us eventually. Or we will to him."_

_Morgan growled, "No, you're lying. I want father back! Where is he?!"_

_"Morgan!" her mother chided, "You're acting like a spoiled brat! I don't know where your father is, or when he's coming back! Now, calm yourself and help me prepare dinner."_

_"No!" Morgan railed. Standing, she rushed out the door and made a beeline for the trees surrounding their home. She continued to run through the foliage until she could no longer see the outline of the house and wandered as further forward as her feet would carry her. Eventually, she wore out and plopped onto the mossy, muddy ground, lamenting its effect of her clothes. She sobbed in silence a moment, a few aqua tears pooling in her eyes. Defiant, however, she wiped them away with her sleeve, pouting, "If I have to, I'll wait for father by myself. He'll come to me, I know it." Suddenly, a squirrel emerged from the brush, scattering a few leaves as it darted out. Seeing the creature, Morgan addressed it: "Afternoon, Mr. Squirrel. Here to keep me company?" She giggled a little as the small furry creature stared back at her with its large eyes. It moved a few paces closer with a pair of leaping bounds and inspected the girl carefully. "Yes," she instructed excitedly, "that's it, come just a little closer. I won't hurt you." The squirrel was unconvinced and hurried off in the opposite direction. "Wait," Morgan rose, giving chase, "come back!" The little redheaded girl tore through the bewilderingly large forest after the small brown creature, which darted and dashed furiously away from her. Morgan laughed giddily as she chased her new friend until she promptly noticed a dark figure in front of her, which she ran into before she could react. From the ground, she rubbed her injured forehead and cried slightly before realizing that no one could hear her. As she looked up, she saw the figure. It looked like a man, but it was… horrible. It had sick purplish skin, rotten teeth, and looked as if it were stitched together, but the worst were its globular, pale, pinkish eyes which stared back into Morgan. She noticed the creature masquerading as a man carried an axe and shrieked in fear as he raised it, arms over her head, snarling like a wolf upon its pray. Morgan felt everything fall to black as she cried as loud as her voice would allow._

_Suddenly, as she awoke, she was in the arms of her mother, who sobbed openly, "Oh, thank the gods. Morgan, you had me worried sick!"_

_Morgan looked around, incredulous that she had survived the encounter and confused at her whereabouts. The only reply she could muster was, "Mom?"_

_"Morgan, honey, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. I know you miss your father, but it's dangerous out in the woods. Please, don't ever run off like that again," her mother returned, staring pleadingly into the girl's nigh-blank eyes._

_"I won't. I'm sorry, mom. I didn't mean to scare you. I'll be a good girl from now on," Morgan began to cry, happy to be returned to her mother, now that her faculties were returned to her._

_Her mother embraced her tightly, "You are a good girl, sweetheart. You are a good girl."_

* * *

"Morgan, is everything all right?"

Morgan sprang to life as her eyes wrenched open to find Lucina's face an inch away from her own. "Uh, yes. Everything's fine," she started groggily.

"It doesn't seem so," Lucina remarked, evaluating the girl nervously, "You slept in much later than the others, and now I come here to find you crying in your sleep. Was it a nightmare?"

"I… I don't know," Morgan allowed honestly, removing the blanket from her cot and sitting up.

Lucina furrowed her brow at the response, "Well, let's get you up. Why don't we have some breakfast together, hm?"

"That sounds terrific, I'm starved," Morgan smiled, rising from the cot.

The two proceeded out of the smaller tent and walked over to Lucina's, denoted by a white, painted Brand of the Exalt that ran along its surface. Lucina parted the flap in invitation as Morgan walked through, and then followed in after her.

"Good morning to you, Morgan," Inigo saluted, sitting on his cot, "I was wondering when sleeping beauty would be joining us all."

"Inigo, please, some food for our guest?" his sister insisted.

"Right," he agreed, withdrawing a small sack from behind him. Reaching into it, he produced a shiny reddish apple and offered it to Morgan, who took it and bit into it hungrily.

"While you're here among us, Morgan," Lucina began stepping away to be between her brother and her tactician, "I was hoping we might discuss some further strategy."

"I'm all ears," Morgan nodded curtly, her mouth full, as she turned her attention back to scarfing down the apple.

"I had a… I had what you might call an epiphany last night. We can't lie in wait forever, Morgan. Clearly we know that much," Lucina balanced her eye contact between her audience, "The only way for us to have any chance of surviving is to eliminate the one responsible: the Fell Dragon, Grima. And the only way to rid the world of him is to perform the Rite of Awakening to gain the power of the Divine Dragon, Naga."

Morgan picked her head up from chewing at the core of the apple, realizing that she was expected to respond, "You're going to have to say that again, because half of it rang to my ears as nonsense."

Lucina looked at the girl irritably and plucked the apple core from her hand, tossing it aside, "We need to gather some artifacts and go to a particular place to end this war."

"Right," Morgan laughed, "All we need are the seven ancient gemstones to unlock the armor of the great and powerful assassin of your ancestry who will grace you with the power to control lightning so that you can open a portal to return the beast to Hell."

"Actually, there are only five gemstones, though the Rite includes a sword and shield, and the Rite is invoked through a covenant sworn in our ancestry. No lightning, though, the sword just becomes imbued with the spirit of the Divine Dragon, which will be used to seal the Fell Dragon," Lucina corrected, staring back.

Morgan laughed again, then drew slowly to a halt with realization, "Oh, gods, you're serious."

"Of course I am. This is a very serious matter, why wouldn't I be?" Lucina turned her head in confusion.

"Do you hear yourself? Lucina, doesn't that all sound a little ridiculous to you?" Morgan tapped her foot.

"Not at all. It was performed by the first exalt successfully. Not to mention, the Fell Dragon is already out there, what is there to disbelieve?" Lucina shook her head.

"Lucina, a lot of times, these sorts of tales are just allegories for the determination of proper behavior in religions, albeit quite elaborate, I—"

"Not this one, Morgan," Inigo spoke up, "You know it when you've held Falchion in your own hands: the legends of its power are true."

"You believe it, too, Inigo?" Morgan turned to face the prince.

"I do," he nodded to his sister.

"Then I suppose there'll be no convincing you two otherwise," Morgan sighed. The pair shook their heads in unison. "Right, then. If we're going to go after these artifacts, though, we need a plan, a solid, levelheaded one. I'm not banking on any gods-given miracles to throw those stones in our lap."

"I agree completely," Lucina concurred, "that's what I wanted to discuss: Group divisions."

" _Divisions_?!" Morgan jumped, "You mean you intend to make our force still _smaller_?!"

Lucina's face creased with pain, "I know it's not an easy task, but this is the only way we can get the gemstones in time."

"'In time?'" Morgan repeated, "'In time' for what?"

"The Fell Dragon draws ever nearer to Ylisstol, Morgan. That's why I decided upon this plan," Lucina stared roughly at the redheaded girl.

Morgan started. It couldn't be, could it? The Fell Dragon, already making his way here? Damn it all, these children were in more trouble than Morgan had realized when she accepted the job. Still, it was this or face death without any hope at all. "You knew this and chose not to share it with me?" Morgan demanded.

"No, honestly," Lucina glanced at the floor, "I was made aware of it only last night. I didn't want to trouble you when you were already asleep."

Morgan sighed dismissively, "All right, divisions. What have you got?"

"My plan was to lead a force that included Cynthia, Noire, Nah, and Kjelle, and for you to stand with my brother, Brady, Yarne, and Owain," Lucina explained.

"And what about Gerome, Severa, and Laurent?" Morgan continued.

"They're among the elite in our group. And they're faster than a number of us. It'll be best if we give them the freedom to take point," Lucina described.

"I don't like it," dismissed Morgan.

"Well, what's wrong with it?" Lucina took a step forward.

"You're the one who needs to perform this Rite, correct? Because of your lineage?" Lucina nodded. "Then we can't afford to put you in harm's way," Morgan commented.

"You would have me out of the way of battle? While my friends risk their lives? Unacceptable," Lucina slapped her open palm on the table in front of her.

"It's the safest move," Morgan shook her head.

"'Safe' hasn't been what's saved lives, Morgan. Daring has," Lucina argued.

"Lucy," Inigo stood and placed a hand on his sister's shoulder, "she's right. No one's better equipped to handle Falchion than you, and no one's more assured to survive Naga's fire. You'll have the best chance—we'll have the best chance—if you stay safe just this once."

"Inigo, there's no way I'm sending you to near-certain death without putting myself through the same risk. The guilt would eat me alive, especially if anything were to happen to you," she removed the hand from her shoulder.

"Call it insubordination, but I'm making that an order, 'captain,'" Inigo looked to her angrily.

"You can't do that!" Lucina yelled back, "I won't let you!" Tears pooled in her eyes.

Inigo's eyes fell and his voice softened, as if he were addressing a child, "Now, now. No tears. Big brother will be just fine, don't you worry."

"I'm older than you," Lucina scoffed.

"Lucina," Inigo commanded, staring straight into his sister's eyes, so that they studied the Brands each shared in the opposite eye, "For your brother's sake, stay safe. Give hope to all of humanity. Give us all a chance."

Lucina couldn't bring herself to respond, "Inigo…"

"Anyway, I'm not dead yet," he concluded with a smirk.

"So…" Morgan stared at the prince, "How are we doing this?"

"Same divisions: I'll watch over the ladies, you handle the guys, and our leftovers can stay here to keep Lucina safe, savvy?" Inigo prepared, slipping a sword into a sheath at his side.

"…Please don't tell me you're taking the girl group because…" Morgan was disgusted to consider the words.

"Not at all," Inigo shook his head earnestly, "On that group, we've got two legendary pessimists and two legendarily naïve hero wanna-bes. They could use a little smile and a healthy dose of reality."

"I suppose that makes sense," Morgan admitted, looking away. Then, back to him, "Just know that if you try anything, I'll gut you like a trout."

Inigo smiled wryly, "Do I detect a little jealousy?"

"Jealousy?" Morgan blushed in spite of herself, "For Mr. I'll-Take-Anyone-Female? I don't think so."

"Mm-hmm," Inigo mused smugly, "Well then, consider this my final gambit." He embraced the redhead tightly, bowing his head between her shoulder and neck.

The pair broke the embrace and stood opposite one another. Morgan announced, "We should make ready. …Good luck, Inigo."

"Same to you, beautiful," he winked, walking out of the tent.

"Morgan," Lucina demanded.

"Lucina?"

"Keep my brother safe, no matter what, all right? He's all I have left in this world."

"Of course. And thank you, Lucina, for this chance."

"You hardly need to thank me for throwing you into death's maw…"

"No, for the chance to be with all of you. You're all great people, you most especially, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather serve."

"Thank you, Morgan. You honor me with your fealty. Indeed, even though we haven't known each other long, I feel as if we were somehow fated to meet."

"Lucina, I feel that sense as well, but there's no such thing as 'fate.' If there were, we wouldn't be alive to stand against the Fell Dragon, see?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"It's foretold that Grima will extinguish all of human life. If that's fated to be the case, then why would we even bother?"

"Because it isn't the case."

"Exactly. Lucina, we're not pawns of some scripted fate. I believe we're more, much more. There's some interconnecting thread, some invisible tie that binds us all together, that makes us stronger, forged through friendships and shared experience as we go forward. An indomitable spirit that keeps us all alive."

"Morgan," Lucina paused, taking in the redhead's face, "Who's laughing about crazy talk now?" A smile cracked from under Lucina's grave face as she laughed giddily. She continued for a moment until drawing back in embarrassment when a snort escaped her.

"I hate you, too," Morgan smiled back at the Ylissean princess, "Nice snort, by the way. Would you care for me to tell the whole camp about that?"

Lucina gasped, still laughing. Gently, she punched the girl's arm, adding, with mock indignation, "You wouldn't."

"Fine, I guess we'll keep it our little secret," the redhead smirked. She began to make for the opening of the tent, "I should go get ready."

"Morgan, wait," Lucina halted her. Morgan pivoted in place accordingly. "If we are tied to anyone through those 'bonds' you spoke of, I thank the gods it was with you," she smiled.

"And I you," Morgan agreed, walking out of the tent.

[*]

"So, I'll be heading up your command," Morgan concluded before the group of boys.

"Ya really think the gemstones'll save us?" Brady coughed.

"I harbored similar doubt, but if Lucina says it's the real deal, well," Morgan paused, staring into the eyes of the men she would be sending to their likely deaths, "it's good enough for me."

"I still don't like it," Yarne whined.

"Fellows, courage!" Owain leapt to Morgan's side and draped an arm around her back, "With our incomparable master strategist, Morgan, leading the charge, there is no way we will fail in our mission. My sword hand thirsts for the blood of evil, and today it will be sated!"

"Thank you for… that," Morgan stepped away from the purple-haired young man, "Yarne, Brady, I empathize with your concerns, but I tell you now, it's either we gather these gemstones and try, or sit on our hands out here and be killed before we even know what's coming."

"I know," Brady sighed bitterly, "a-and I have the utmost confidence in ya, Morg. Yer gonna lead us to victory again, right? Don't screw it up." He attempted to smile at her, but his inner convictions pervaded his expression.

"Thank you, Brady," Morgan nodded, "Yarne, what do you say, will you be all right?"

"I have to… for the taguel," he stared ahead with determination, though his hand shook at the words.

"Right. You'll be doing your species proud, Yarne," Morgan agreed.

"Then let us be off and carve a mighty, glorious swath through our eldritch adversaries and save our dying world with the might of the great Warriors of Dark!" Owain celebrated.

"Wouldn't that make more sense as 'Warriors of Light?'" Morgan inquired.

"Perhaps, but I am the legendary Owain Dark, the group must bear my name!" he resolved.

"Yeah, well, for the purpose of this operation, we're Group N," Morgan corrected.

"' _Group N_?'" Owain scoffed, "Where's the excitement and intimidation in that?"

"There isn't any, it's just quick and easy to say," Morgan explained, "Now, we really should get moving."

The teams set about their final preparations and fell in before their captain for one final address before they each prepared to head out. Lucina took to the front, eyes cast down, unable to look her friends in the eye. "Everyone," she announced, "I do not intend to damage morale, but now would be the time to say your goodbyes. There won't be any time left once we execute this plan."

Members of the group nodded and turned to one another, offering hands to be shaken and extending hugs, and even a few kisses between them. Morgan walked to the front and stood at Lucina's side opposite Inigo.

"Morgan, please, remember our promise," Lucina's eyes begged Morgan.

"With my life," she obeyed.

"No, not yours, either," Lucina shook her head with a weak smile.

"We'll return to you, Lucina. You have my word," Morgan held a hand out to the princess.

Lucina ignored it, embracing the redhead and, to their apparent mutual surprise, kissing her as well. "You'll pardon me," Lucina excused, drawing back, "My emotions are getting the better of me. I so dearly wish you safe, Morgan."

"Is that so? Because it looks like _Morgan_ is getting the best of you," Inigo laughed.

"Inigo, not now!" Lucina stamped her foot, her face red with embarrassment.

He turned to face Morgan and offered his own hand, "Good luck, Morgan. And a safe return."

She smiled gladly and took it, "The same to you, Inigo. Don't go getting yourself hurt."

"No promises," he laughed.

Suddenly, Morgan's head was gripped with a tension that clouded her vision. She fell to the ground, wincing and gripping the sides of her head.

"CHILD… I APPROACH," came a searing, malicious voice from within the blackness of her mind.


	5. Bell Tones

_Morgan stood, uncertain where she had landed. The floor reminded her of the floor of the castle at Ylisstol as she picked herself up from it. Upon standing, however, she noted that the place was unlike any she had ever seen before. The sky above her swirled with a strange and oddly sickening violet mist that clouded and pervaded her view. Fixing her vision straight ahead, however, she was even more shocked. A vision stood before her. Or, a pair of visions, more specifically, the spitting images of her mother and father that Morgan had recalled from her dreams, complete with the obscuring of their faces._

_"LIKE WHAT YOU SEE?" Morgan recognized the unsettling voice that had confronted her before._

_"My parents…" Morgan wasn't certain how to address the entity, "Where are they? What did you do to them? And who are you?"_

_"YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER…" the entity seemed to draw a breath, "ARE DEAD, TINY ONE."_

_Morgan bit her lip, "That's not true. You're lying to me."_

_"NOT SO, GIRL," the voice remarked indignantly, "YOU WILL NOT FIND THEM."_

_Morgan slapped her palms over her ears, "La-la-la-la, I'm not listening!"_

_The image of Morgan's father came forward and drew her arms down, "Come on now, honey, listen to what the man has to say."_

_"F-Father…?" Morgan hesitated at the touch of the shadow._

_"I CAN BRING THEM BACK TO YOU, LITTLE ONE. YOU NEED BUT DO AS I SAY," the voice proceeded._

_Suddenly, Morgan pushed the arm of her father away, but her own hands phased through. Angrily, she returned, "You're lying to me; I'm no fool. I'm getting out of here. Get out of my head!"_

* * *

"Get out of my head!" Morgan heard herself declare.

The others regarded her silently as she stood, still gripping the sides of her head. She dropped her arms and returned all of their stares.

Lucina was the first to address her, "Morgan, are you feeling all right?"

"Uh, yes, I'm okay," Morgan coughed, dusting off her cloak.

Lucina frowned, "No, you're not. What was that all about?"

Morgan scanned the crowd in front of her. There was no way she could reveal the inter-workings of that strange vision to all of them; she was already suspicious enough in their minds. "I get absence seizures from time to time. Sometimes I act irrationally," Morgan covered, recalling a vague diagnosis from a medical text.

"I've never heard of such an ailment," Lucina stared at the redhead, but found nothing, "Please, Morgan, do keep us apprised of such things. It's important that we know how to deal with these types of situations."

"I'm sorry, Lucina," Morgan relaxed, "I didn't want you to throw me out as useless because my mind occasionally goes blank."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Morgan," Lucina nodded, also easing herself slightly.

"Then, you'll still let me lead?" Morgan continued, feigning fragility.

"Indeed. But please, everyone, make a note of this tendency Morgan speaks of and be prepared to help her. And Morgan, if you've any other afflictions, I would hear them now," Lucina nodded, grasping Morgan's shoulder affably.

"No, nothing else," Morgan sighed, giving Lucina an appreciative smile.

"All right," Lucina concluded, resuming her earlier position, "Then I wish you all the best of luck. May the gods smile on our purpose." The group cheered in response.

* * *

"So," Brady put forward, plodding along, "can ya tell us what the plan is, Morg?"

"Of course, Brady," she produced a small book from her sleeve and opened it, "You know already that we're after the gemstones Argent and Sable. As luck would have it, all the gemstones, and the Fire Emblem itself, are contained within the borders of Plegia. That much, we know. The goal will be to scout for the gemstones' locations, grab them, and get out of here."

"That's it?" he looked back to her, confused, "'Get in and get out?' No elaborate maneuvers, no flanking and dodging and weapon specialties and chains of command? Nothing?"

"We're a small strike team with a singular goal. Our intention is to avoid combat as much as possible," Morgan remarked.

"Heh," Brady smirked, "this was a better plan than I thought."

"We need to keep up the pace, Brady," Morgan cautioned, several steps ahead of him.

"Right, sorry," he hurried forward to her side. "Look, Morg, I had somethin' I wanted to get off my chest, yeah?"

Morgan raised an eyebrow at the war cleric, "What might that be? I don't do confessionals, you know."

"Very funny," he rolled his eyes, "No, I wanted to say… I'm sorry if I come off all scared and pessimistic. I just… Think about my folks, and how great they are, and I wonder: if they died, how in the hell am I gonna manage, ya know?"

Morgan nodded in acknowledgement, "Well, if there's anyone who has to worry about living up to a heritage, it's Lucina and Inigo, wouldn't you say?"

Brady looked straight ahead, "Maybe yer right."

"And, anyway, I can appreciate the more realistic perspective on things. I'm not exactly thrilled to hear these gemstones are our only shot, either. Still, though, I've seen the way you fight to protect your comrades, Brady. You're a strong soldier and an even better friend. I think you undervalue yourself," Morgan concluded patting his back.

"Don't get all sappy on me, Morg," he stifled a sniff, "But… that means a lot. Thanks. And don't you worry, we're gonna get those gemstones, and I'm gonna belt Grima right across his big, stinkin' dragon face, personally!"

"That's what I like to hear," Morgan smiled.

* * *

"So, you know for a fact that those are the gemstones in there?" Morgan requested.

"I've never been more certain of anything in all my life. It's easy for me to spot something if I know it's going to save my life," Yarne nodded.

"All right," Morgan sized up the castle before her. Plegia Castle. It should have been the hub of Risen activity, according to Lucina's story, but the creatures were no more abundant here than any other location Morgan's team had visited. Grima really must have been on the move. Nonetheless, perhaps this was a blessing, rather than a wicked omen, to Group N. Obtaining the gemstones would be easier this way, right? Morgan couldn't settle herself. She felt she knew something more sinister waited within the building's walls.

"Uh, Morgan?" Yarne waved his hand in front of her face, "You kind of spaced out on me."

"I was trying to come up with a plan," she scolded.

"Eep!" Yarne jumped, "S-sorry! Don't look at me like that!"

Morgan rolled her eyes, "You can face a horde of Risen, but not a glare from a little girl?"

"S-sorry," he meandered back over to her, "It's just… your eyes—you have this… presence, gravitas, whatever you want to call it."

"At any rate, I guess this means we know what we need to do. Tell the others to get their gear ready and we'll go," Morgan announced.

"We… we really have to go in there?" Yarne pleaded.

Morgan stroked a lock of hair over her shoulder, "Yes, we do. Now move it, soldier."

"Yes, ma'am," he saluted, jogging away.

Morgan stared at the castle another moment. She was captivated by the strange structure. Somehow, she felt nostalgic about the building, despite swearing she had never seen it before. Perhaps there was something more to her lost memories than she could realize. She regarded an insignia of a sort displayed by a purple tapestry on the building's exterior, considering its design. She could swear, too, that she had seen the insignia before, but was unaware of whether it was significant at all. The design was strangely shaped, almost conical, with what appeared to be six eyes, three on either side, and a few jagged patterns that made the outline of an emblem of sorts. _Emblem_ , Morgan thought to herself, _that's right. Lucina told me the Emblem was lost here. Perhaps…_

"Rise, O exalted tactician, whose might we laud in brightest day, for the time for our advance is nigh!" rose a voice from behind Morgan.

"Uh… yeah. We're ready when you are, Morg," another complemented.

"All right," Morgan stood to face her allies, "Let me lay out our plan of attack: Yarne, you're the fastest. I'm trusting you to rush the gemstones and lift them out of here. Yours is the most important task; don't fail in it. Owain, you're handy with a blade, so you and I will be clearing a path through the castle for Yarne. Brady, you're the only healer among us, so I'm relying on you for support."

"Support?! But I swore to you I would help these guys!" Brady growled.

"You will, by keeping yourself, and, by consequence, all of us, alive," Morgan retorted.

"No way. I'm helping clear a path, too," he snarled.

"Brady," Morgan sighed, "this is no time for death wishes. The best thing you can do for anyone is use your own talents to the best of your ability."

"Fine," Brady spat in protest.

"Are we ready, then?" Morgan raised her arm above her head. The trio nodded. Morgan lowered her arm at them, "Attack!"

Owain hopped down from the small ridge first, charging forward. He announced a move as he ripped a few Risen apart. Morgan wasn't far behind as she slid down the rocky formation into a leaping swipe at another collection of the monsters. Yarne squealed with fright as he lowered himself indelicately down the face as well, Brady growling and urging him forward as they hurried in suit of their comrades.

"Owain! Let's do a little combat optimization!" Morgan smiled to the boy over the roar of the clashing.

"That sounds awesome!" he cheered back.

"Here we go!" Morgan withdrew a wind tome from her sleeve and proceeded to leap and dodge through the crowd of Risen until she was comfortably behind them. Chanting quickly, a vortex whipped its way into the Plegian sands and flung a massive collection of the creatures to the sword-wielding boy, who, upon realizing Morgan's intention, happily obliged it by slashing violently into the cloud of defenseless monsters.

"Nice one!" she lauded, "Care to try another?"

He jumped beside her, "My sword hand twitches in anticipation of the complement of your might and brilliance!"

"Take your sword and spin," Morgan ordered.

"Spin?"

"Just do it."

He complied, extending his blade forward as if to thrust it into a foe and began to pivot in place. Now behind him, Morgan made use of her tome again, concentrating the vortex around her comrade, who accelerated tremendously and began to carve furiously through the remaining crowd of Risen who blocked the castle entrance.

"Way to go, Owain!" Morgan continued to cheer after him. She motioned with her hand to bid the other pair of boys follow.

"This is _great_!" he laughed, slowed, but still slashing a swath through the creatures.

"Owain, this way, let's move in," Morgan ordered, motioning toward the castle's entrance.

The two hurried forward into the hall, Owain fiercely cutting away at the smaller collections of Risen crowding the chambers and Morgan melting groups away with a fire tome. As the number of Risen shrank to a more negligible level, Yarne pushed forward through the group, now in his beast form, and leapt deftly over the remaining creatures to hurry down the hall where he had spotted the gemstones. Brady sighed discontentedly as he kept his staff raised, waiting carefully behind Morgan and Owain.

"Ya think I should go watch him? I mean, you two are alright, aren't ya?" Brady begged of Morgan.

"Not a chance. We have our roles, Brady," Morgan announced as she threw up another flare of magic, "messing with strategy mid-battle is a big no-no, unless circumstances change drastically. Or especially if they do."

"Huh?" Brady snarled, "What does that even mean?"

"Just do what I ask and we'll all have an easier time staying alive, please," Morgan insisted irritably. He grumbled again in response, but did not move.

Yarne rushed past the last corridor. There were still Risen in the room where them gemstones were held. Tough-looking Risen, too, Yarne lamented. _No_ , he steeled himself, _there's no room for cowardice at this stage of the game. Time to go prove myself!_ The taguel continued forward into the room and dodged, deftly as he was able, past the frenzied Risen, who scratched at him with swords and axes, one arrow even landed in his back, but Yarne was unfazed as he collected the gemstones and fled the way he had come. "MORGAN!" he announced at the top of his lungs, "I'VE GOT THEM! LET'S GO!"

Morgan blew another Risen away as she heard the call. "Hear that, guys? Time for an orderly retreat."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Brady scoffed, turning to face the entrance.

"Wait for Yarne," Morgan cautioned him.

"I'm here, I'm here, I'm here, already!" Yarne squealed, bounding out of the chamber and into the hallway, making for the doors, "Let's go!"

"Moving!" Morgan agreed, gesturing backward with her hand.

Quickly, the group filed out of the building, Morgan and Owain continuing to cover their exit, as they began to scuttle up the rough, rocky edifice from which they had made their move. After a few minutes of hurrying a fleeing, the group took note that they were no longer surrounded by Risen, and, upon that realization, stopped and simultaneously bent over, releasing sighs of relief. After their collective catharsis, a smile was shared among the entire group.

"I knew we'd make it," Morgan smirked.

"I hate you," Brady laughed at her.

"That was _incredible_!" Owain cheered, eyes sparkling, standing in awe of Morgan.

"I'm alive, I'll take it," Yarne chuckled, "Great job, Morgan."

"Thank you, Yarne, but you were the one who had the hard job. And you performed admirably. You've made the taguel proud," Morgan lauded him, patting his furry back.

"Thank you, Morgan," his eyes grew misty, "It means a lot to hear that. But I'm not done honoring the taguel until we've saved everyone else."

"You know it," Morgan nodded. Looking at the taguel another moment, she noticed his injuries, "Ooh, gods, that doesn't look very good. Brady, help Yarne out a bit."

"Be good to finally make myself useful," he sneered, raising his staff. Yarne winced slightly as the cuts and gapes sealed themselves slowly, but endured the sensation well enough and thanked Brady afterward.

"We can't leave tonight," Morgan sighed, still out of breath, scanning the horizon, "We'll need to set up camp here and rest for the night. Then we'll get going first thing in the morning and be back to Ylisstol before sundown, provided we hurry."

"Here?" Brady regarded the tactician skeptically, "Are ya sure?"

"Yes, it's fine. The Risen don't actively scout out for danger, they just wait for it to come to them. They aren't very intelligent or independent. As long as we're far enough away, it'll be like we were never there to begin with," Morgan reported.

"If ya say so," Brady acceded.

* * *

Lucina stared down the throne with all the intensity she could muster. Was she really worthy of that place? She had neglected to follow her own soldiers into battle, did she really deserve to revel in their victory. She sighed, putting a hand to her head.

"Lucina, it would seem something ails you," a voice announced from behind her.

"Oh," Lucina pivoted in place, "Oh, gods, Lady Tiki! I didn't expect to see you here."

"I did not mean to frighten you," the Voice apologized.

"No, not at all, Lady Tiki," Lucina smiled, "I am quite pleased to have you here. I was… not certain that you were…"

"Alive? I know, it's an uncertain that pervades every aspect of life now, it would seem," Tiki lamented, shutting her eyes and biting her lip. Recovering, she looked back up to Lucina, "but it gives me great joy and tremendous hope to see the Exalt's own blood still in the flesh."

"And I the Voice of the Divine Dragon," Lucina also smiled in kind.

"I wondered if I might remain at your side for the time being, Lucina. Times… they are slated to take a turn for the worse, it seems. There is an ill presage in my heart," Tiki continued.

"Of course, you are always welcome in Ylisstol, Lady Tiki. And… I believe I know the turn of which you speak. Grima makes for Ylisstol," Lucina commented.

"And how do you know that?" Tiki was surprised.

"My uncle informed me of it before making preparations of his own," Lucina explained.

"Uncle? Curious, I do not recall Chrom having a brother," Tiki put a skeptical finger to her chin.

"No. He is not my uncle, per se, by relation, but my father considered him a brother. That is how I recall it," Lucina recollected.

"I… see," Tiki didn't remove her finger from her chin.

* * *

"Morgan," she was stirred in her tent. She was terribly fatigued from the marching and battling of days past and was drifting precariously close to sleep when the call rang out.

"What is it?" she managed sleepily.

"The Fire Emblem, it's out here," she recognized Brady's face as he shook her shoulder.

Morgan rose from the tent and parted the flap, emerging to, beyond her wildest imagination, see exactly what Brady had described: A crowd of lance-toting Risen encircled the shimmering, golden shield that could only be the Fire Emblem.

Brady had followed her, "Whaddya say? Should I go grab it?"

"Brady, don't be so naïve. This is too easy, it has to be a trap," Morgan remarked idly, watching the scene.

"They ain't movin'" he spat curtly as he watched alongside her.

"And neither are we, without a plan," Morgan scoffed, "get the others."

"Aw, Morg! Yarne's in the tent recovering, he can barely move without hurtin' 'imself, and Owain's at a disadvantage using a sword against lances, ain't he? Let me be useful for once!" Brady railed.

"Not happening," Morgan shook her head.

"Morgan!" he shouted, grabbing her shoulders, "Please! Do ya have any idea how hard it is to just sit back and watch you guys smash the bad guys and get all cut up when I know full well I could help ya out? Do ya?! It sucks! I'm tired of it! Gimme a chance to light those dastards up, will ya? Just watch my back, that's all! It'll be fine!" Tears were present in his eyes, "I just want to help!"

"All right, all right," Morgan sighed, pulling his arms off of her, "but be careful, okay? I'll be watching you. Don't be afraid to retreat if you need to."

"Thank you, Morgan. I promise, I won't screw it up," Brady nodded, picking up his axe from his tent and walking toward the circle of Risen. "All right, ya damned zombies, who wants some?" he called into the fray, chopping the creatures up with ease, blocking down the shafts of their lances with his axe and driving it into their skulls. After a few minutes of felling one Risen after another in much the same fashion, he picked the shield up from the swirling desert sands and began to walk back to the campsite. Morgan allowed a small sigh of relief as she saw his face, determined, but livened, as he moved to return.

And she saw it turn to shock as the spear penetrated his chest.

"Where do you think you're going with that?" a voice cackled from behind him.

Morgan looked out to the horizon upon which Brady fell and saw a young man standing just behind him, a group of Pegasus knights at his side. He looked to be no older than Morgan and wore a mop of raven-black hair and a cocky smile.

"You bastard!" Morgan yelled in spite of herself.

"Sorry, darling, but the Ylisseans can't get ahold of this," he smirked at her. His disposition shifted as he stared at her face, however.

"Brady, oh gods," Morgan leapt forward and tore through the campsite to reach him. Unimpeded, she lowered herself onto her knees by his collapsed form.

The Pegasus knights at the side of the young man readied themselves, but he gestured for them to lower their arms and took off without a word.

"Tch, typical. There I go screwing it up again…" Brady scoffed through a spurt of his own blood, "I even promised I wouldn't…"

"Brady, forget about that! Where's your staff?! Do you have vulneraries, something?!" Morgan patted her hands up and down his robes.

"Nothin'. You can't do the healing magic, anyway. It's more difficult than hurtin'," he let out a groaning sigh, "Morg, I'm useless to ya anyway. Ya have to keep movin' to get the gemstones to Ylisstol. Lucina'll be waiting."

"We can save your life, Brady!" Morgan assured herself frantically.

"You already have," he murmured into the sand.


	6. Trampled Flowers

_"Still cold?" she resigned, staring at her daughter. Morgan shook her head meekly. "Don't you worry about your mother, she'll be fine, you have to tell me if you're cold, sweetie," she insisted. Again, Morgan shook her head. "Well, take another blanket anyway," she produced a large, red, silk blanket and draped it over the girl._

_"How will you stay warm, mother?" she lifted her head._

_"I told you, don't worry about me," she dismissed. They sat in silence and exchanged stares a moment. Eventually, she broke the eye contact and shifted her gaze to the floor, "Mommy has to get us some… firewood now, Morgan."_

_"And that's what will keep you warm, right?" Morgan hoped._

_Morgan noticed her mother's brow shift, "Right. The firewood. That will keep me warm."_

_"Good," Morgan sighed contentedly into her pile of blankets, shifting herself to a more comfortable position._

_"Get some rest, sweetheart, and don't be afraid to eat whatever you want if you get hungry, okay?" she patted her daughter's head._

_"Okay. Will you be gone long, mother?" Morgan glanced back up at her._

_A single tear developed in her mother's eye, "I… No. I'll be back very soon, Morgan. But, I want you to remember something very important, okay?"_

_"Listening," Morgan propped herself up again to face her mother, "What is it?"_

_"I love you, Morgan. And your father loves you, too. We both love you so much," she kissed the girl's forehead and Morgan felt a tear drop onto her head as they broke their embrace._

_"Mother, you're acting a bit strange, is everything okay?" Morgan cocked an eyebrow at her._

_"Yes, Morgan. Everything is going to be fine," she smiled at her daughter, opening the door. She disappeared, snuffed out into whiteness, into a cloud of snowflakes that settled daintily to the floor._

* * *

"M-Morgan?" a cautious voice drifted into her ear.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes, which felt sore, "W-What is it?"

"Oh, okay, good," Owain sighed, "you're awake. Had us worried for a moment, there." He chuckled nervously at her.

"Brady…? Where's Brady?" Morgan regained her sensibilities.

Owain stared at the ground, "Dead, Morgan. We had to leave him. That Grimleal sorcerer was… something else. He was an absolute monster."

"Grimleal sorcerer?" Morgan was still having a hard time thinking, "I… I don't remember…"

"I'm not surprised," Owain shook his head, "You were kicking and screaming and crying the whole time, telling us we had to go back for him even though he bled out right in front of you."

"Then it's true," Morgan looked down, "I made… a grievous tactical error."

"Morgan, I know it's difficult, but—"

"Brady's dead because I slipped up," Morgan spat.

"That's not true!" Owain cautioned, "There's no way you could have known that sorcerer would appear."

"I did. I knew it was a trap. I knew it was a trap and I let him go anyway. It's my fault," she shook her head.

"Morgan…"

"It's my fault, dammit!" she slammed a fist upon the ground.

"Morgan, please. You can't blame yourself like this. Everyone makes mistakes," Owain continued to endeavor to placate her.

"But not everyone costs a friend his life when she screws up," she shook her head and swiped her arm furiously in front of her. Then, more calmly, she cried, "I let everyone down."

"Not at all, Morgan," Owain approached her and placed a hand at her back, "casualties are inevitable in any conflict. If anything, you exceeded expectations in only losing one of us. Seriously, did you see all those Risen? And three out of four of us made it back? That's a miracle by any tactical standpoint."

"But I was supposed to be better. I was supposed to save all of us. Gods damn it, I'm not worthy of my father," she sputtered, letting her face sink into her knees as she sat, hunched.

"You're not the only one out here who has to worry about living up to her parents, you know? I heard what you told Brady. He was saying the same thing, worrying about not living up to his parents' legend, but you assured him he should have no such worry. Why are you getting all worked up about it yourself?" he rubbed her back lightly.

"Because…" she sighed, exasperated, "Because I was supposed to be better than this. I failed, and I'm ashamed of it, is that really so hard to understand?"

"Not at all, so long as you understand that each of us has already had this inner turmoil once before," Owain smiled at her cockily, "We've all gone through these same things, Morgan, let us help you."

"Still…" Morgan breathed, "I… I failed, there's no doubting that."

"And there's no sense in dwelling on it, either. We have to get back to Ylisstol quickly," Owain reminded her.

"Right," she exhaled deeply again, "Thank you, Owain. I appreciate that you're trying to help. And I just noticed you aren't speaking in your usual… parlance."

"No, I can appreciate the gravity of this moment for you," he nodded, patting her back again, "and how much easier it is with a nice, comforting, handsome presence at your side."

"Hah," she laughed dryly.

"What's funny?" his face shifted into concern.

"You," she pushed him lightly, "that was funny."

"I didn't really mean for it to be a joke…" he slid a hand under her chin and pulled it up to face him, "I… enjoy your company, Morgan. I enjoy it a lot."

Blushing, Morgan swatted the hand down, "Is that it? You see a defenseless, broken-down girl in her tent, then swoop in so you can be the big hero and steal her heart?! Is that what you think this is?! Is that what all the words of comfort were about?!"

"N-No, Morgan, I meant those from the heart," he doubled back.

"Y-You didn't mean any of it, you sick bastard! You… You, horrible, philandering, awful…" she broke into tears, "How dare you do this to a lady when she's vulnerable! You are _disgusting_!" Shoving him, Morgan tore out of the tent and into the woods, eyes worn red with tears, cheeks soaked, hair a mix of scraggly at the back and matted to her face in the front. She continued fleeing into the woods until she could no longer feel her legs, whereupon they promptly gave out from under her and she fell on her face into the grass, sobbing in sickened agony for several minutes more before all fell to black.

* * *

_"CHILD," Morgan heard. She recognized it as the voice from her earlier episode._

_"You again," she mused, looking around._

_"I OFFER YOU A CHOICE. I WISH TO HAVE YOU STAND WITH ME, AND SO I OFFER YOU YOUR PARENTS' LIVES," the entity repeated its terms._

_"Why me?" she sighed, "Clearly, I'm a failure and a weakling who can't do anything right."_

_"That's not true and you know it, darling," came the response._

_Morgan looked up, that wasn't the entity's voice. Before her, again, stood the slightly obscured vision of her father. Had he really spoken to her? "Father?" she stared dumbly._

_A smile warmed over his face as he extended a hand to the girl, "Morgan, sweetheart. It's good to see you again. So very nice."_

_She took the hand. Took it. It was corporeal this time. Morgan was shocked, she could only repeat, "Father?"_

_"Yes, honey. I must say, you've made me so proud; look what a fine young lady you've grown up to be! You make your father very happy, Morgan," his smile broadened as he grasped her small hand with his gloved fingers._

_Morgan couldn't prevent tears from reaching her face, "Father… thank you. I want to stand at your side again, I want to be your little girl again." She sniffled, tucking herself into his arm as tears streaked down her face. "Everything's so… hard," she sobbed, "I want to have a normal life again, to love my father and have him there to love me back."_

_"THEN YOU KNOW WHAT YOU MUST DO TO FIND THAT FATE," the entity's voice announced from above her._

_Morgan paused and held a finger to her chin, staring forward. She thought of Lucina and Inigo, Inigo, who had told her he was her friend. Could they really be friends, though? He was a notorious philanderer, why did she believe him? Kjelle, and all the others, had been skeptical of her since she first arrived. She was never accepted. Even Lucina had clearly begun to doubt that she was who she had told them all she was. Morgan looked up to her father, his smiling face, his warm arms, his broad, protective shoulders, his silly, feathered hairdo, and she smiled back at him. "There's nothing left for me here, anyway," she decided._

_"GOOD," the entity declared, "NOW, CLOSE YOUR EYES. REMAIN ABSOLUTELY STILL, AND OPEN YOUR HEART."_

_"'Open my heart?'" Morgan asked._

_"YOU WILL UNDERSTAND IN A MOMENT," the entity assured her._

Indeed, he was correct. All at once, Morgan felt a sense of collapsing on her heart, a great tightening, as if it were placed in a vice. She winced aloud in pain, but continued to hold firm, assured that the pain would bring her the result she desired. Slowly, she felt the pain slipping away and a tremendous urge to cough as she rose from her position on the ground, dusting herself off. She felt compelled forward at once, her legs setting her off one step at a time, at a very regular pace. She had no idea where she was being taken for several minutes until she recognized the outskirts of the camp she had shared with the boys. She realized Owain waited on the fringe of the camp and was scanning the tree line. She saw him jump with excitement as she emerged more prominently from within the forest. As Morgan neared the camp, she heard even more of the purple-haired boy's shouting as he hopped and sped down the hillside to meet her.

"MORGAN!" she heard his shout rising as he drew nearer. She felt as though she wanted to respond, but couldn't bring herself to, as if some pressure held the words down in her throat.

"Morgan, hey, thank gods!" Owain hurried closer waving to her.

Suddenly, Morgan's feet stopped moving, and instead she came into full control of herself. Nonetheless, however, she remained rooted to the ground. Something made her absolutely furious as she watched the boy draw near. Had she her voice, she might have growled like a cornered dog as she stood.

"Morgan!" the myrmidon insisted, "Are you gonna say anything?!"

Morgan whipped the blade on her back out and felt her legs shift as she leapt forward, driving the blade into Owain's chest. Spot on. She withdrew the blade unceremoniously and let him slump off of it, blood spilling forth from the wound, eyes staring straight ahead, indelibly so, due to the shock. She stared at the corpse a moment feeling the most absolute contempt she could ever recall feeling. She wasn't certain how to feel as she noticed a smile creeping across her face. Still, there was a tugging at her heart, a painful one, at that. She tried to dismiss the feeling.

"THE GEMSTONES," Morgan heard the voice of the entity contacting her, "YOU MUST GATHER ALL OF THE GEMSTONES. LEAVE NONE OF THEM."

Morgan couldn't move herself again. She carried on forward to Yarne. Luckily he had witnessed the entire exchange, and with gemstones and beaststone in hand, he was transformed and scurrying away as quickly as his legs would carry him. Again, Morgan found herself rooted in place.

"YOU WILL REQUIRE A MOUNT," the voice in her mind commented. Almost as quickly as it had been said, an onyx-black Pegasus sidled up to her, bearing a pinkish and peachy glow. Morgan noticed its eyes were also pink as she lifted herself onto the creature, which did not stir as Morgan climbed atop it. Quickly as she sat herself upon the beast's back, she felt fatigue overwhelm her and drag her into sleep.

* * *

_It was cold. Morgan realized that much. She sat, or did she lie? It was impossible for her to discern the sensation. Then, there came that voice again, the one she desired to hear more than anything. She felt herself rising._

_"Hi, Morgan. It's been a little while, hasn't it, sweetheart?"_

_She wanted to respond, but couldn't force her mouth to move. She continued to be held as she stared back, dumbly, her vision clouded by a strange white haze._

_"I just laid her down for a nap," lamented a sarcastic voice from behind her._

_"I missed her," the sweetest of voices declared earnestly, kissing Morgan's forehead._

_"And she you, look how excited she is," the other voice, almost as sweet to Morgan's ear, smiled with a melodious tone._

_"Tell me, Morgan? Have you been a good girl for mommy while daddy was away?" the voice just in front of her asked._

_Morgan tried to nod, but again felt her body completely incapable of moving, despite her rather definite and strenuous input._

_"She's a real angel, to be honest. Listening to some of the other girls' horror stories, I wasn't sure I'd be cut out for the whole 'motherhood' thing, but she barely cries, doesn't go anywhere she's not supposed to… Heck, I might be convincing myself, but it seems like she only ever begs to be nursed in a quiet, private place, even," the other voice lauded, proud and cheerful._

_"Thank you, Morgan, for following my instruction," the voice in front of her commended, "You're such a good, beautiful little girl, aren't you? And your mother and father love you very much."_

_Morgan couldn't stand it; she wanted to reply to that wonderful, soothing voice so badly. She strained and shoved and worked every muscle in her throat, tongue, and lips until, finally she managed to spit out: "Love!"_

_The man before her stared at her incredulously, then looked to his side, "Did you hear that?"_

_"I sure did," the woman at his side smiled, walking over to him, "that was her first word! 'Love,' she said!"_

_"You want to tell your mother and I that you love us, Morgan?" the man held her even higher up._

_Morgan worked as hard as she could again, but still only managed to repeat, "Love!"_

_The man laughed giddily, holding her up, then clutching her to his breast, "And we love you, too, Morgan. You're the best thing that ever happened to us. Gods, Anna, I've missed you both so much…"_

_"I can promise to get over it if you promise you'll never leave us again," she grasped his shoulder._

_"You know I can't promise that. Even now, I'm on borrowed time," he sighed._

_"I know," her eyes fell, "but you'll come back for us, and we'll be together like we meant to, right?"_

_"Of course, Anna. I wouldn't dream of anything less," he smiled._

_Morgan writhed in his arms, trying to manage another word, to grasp at his face and make them aware of her presence of mind._

_"Okay," he laughed at her wriggling little body, "back to naptime now, I get it." He placed her back down in the small wooden structure with the plushy, velvety covering beneath her. He drew a cottony blanket over her quickly and her conscious seemed to fade as fast._

_"I know you came for her…" Morgan heard the woman say, draping her arms over her husband's shoulders, "but I'm still here, too."_

_"Don't be ridiculous," he dismissed, "I couldn't possibly forget about you, Anna. I was worried sick! But I've got two girls to protect now, and I need to take care of them in equal measure."_

_Her voice wavered a touch, but it was overwhelmingly sultry as she breathed into his ear, "Let me monopolize your time for one more night. Be mine and mine alone again."_

_There was no protest from him as Morgan felt her eyes shut and her vision enveloped in white, which quickly faded back into blackness._

* * *

"Well, _that_ was quite the big to-do," Inigo chuckled, kicking a Risen corpse off the end of his blade. He bore several red streaks along his cheeks and forehead that had smeared across his face. His leg nagged at him as he stepped forward to join his comrades.

Noire shrieked at the top of her lungs, "I-Inigo! There's blood _all over your face_!"

"Oh?" he scoffed, admonishing himself under his breath for startling her, quickly using his gloves to wipe away the stains.

"Ta-da!" announced a cheery voice. Cynthia swept down on her Pegasus, offering her open palm, and a shimmering aqua-blue orb atop it, "One gemstone for monsieur!"

"And the other," Kjelle breathed, stepping out of a small pile of the undead creatures, sweating, kicking a few of the re-dead corpses to the wayside. Also opening her palm, she offered the Ylissean prince an amber pearl of similar hue, "Gules is all yours, my prince."

"Thank you, Kjelle. And excellent work to you all," he nodded as Nah dove forth from the sky, releasing from her dragon form. She filed in quickly with the others. "Now then," he turned to face the exit to the exit to the small castle, "Let's make to Ylisstol, girls. We've got a world to save!"


	7. The Phoenix

"Gods damn it," the blue haired prince spat, casting his gaze down to his feet. After a moment, he raised his eyes to evaluate the sheepish young man, riddled with scars, who stood before him, "And you're absolutely certain of that?"

"I wish I was lying," he now also lowered his eyes to the floor, "but there's no doubt in my mind of what I saw."

"Damn," the prince repeated uselessly, clenching his fist in at his side.

"I knew it. I knew that this would happen. You all are so damned simple and trusting in a world that will cut you down again and again for it," remarked a voice.

"Kjelle, I don't appreciate you eavesdropping or rubbing salt in my wounds," the prince barely had the energy to look at her, "even if you were correct. I can't believe we were fooled like this. She seemed so… innocent."

"The best of secretive agents often do," Kjelle agreed. She faced the young taguel, who rubbed his wounded arm, "You said you managed to collect the gemstones, then, yes?"

"Right," he produced the sparkling orbs from a pouch he carried at his waist, "Vert and Sable are all yours."

Stepping in front of Kjelle as she reached forward, Inigo grabbed the stones from the taguel's outstretched palm, "I'll hold onto those."

"Will you be all right, milord? Able to lead properly? I know you… rather enjoyed Lady Morgan's company," Kjelle inquired.

"I'll thank you to refrain from editorializing on my state of mind, Kjelle," he coughed, summoning the strength to look up and glare sternly at her, "But yes, I'll be fine. We'll make to Ylisstol, same as before. We'll need to pick up the pace, given that a confounding variable has been added to the equation."

"I couldn't agree more, milord," Kjelle concluded with a salute.

"Hey, Inigo! Morgan's coming back! And she's on a Pegasus!" a voice chirped from beyond the tent.

"Milord…" Kjelle began.

"Not a word, Kjelle," Inigo stormed out of the canvas and marched out onto the plains around the campsite. It was true, the innocent-looking redheaded girl was swooping toward the small clearing with a vicious velocity. Her eyes, tiny pink dots for a moment, locked with Inigo's and she plummeted from the skies, darting at him. Springing out of the way, the prince coughed and blocked the sod from his eyes as the beast settled in place before him with a ferocious flourish as its wings settled. Wiping the last bits of the dust from his face, the prince regarded his comrade. She sauntered toward him, heel-to-toe with each step. She was wearing her cloak differently, it was unclasped and barely hanging onto her, and she made no effort, as she previously had, to cover her chest, which was emboldened by the tight tan undershirt that shielded it. Strangely even to himself, Inigo felt disquieted by the lascivious glare she projected onto him. "M-Morgan…" he finally managed.

"Inigo," her eyes were unreadable, "What happened back there was… dreadful, I know."

"Dreadful?! You murdered two of our friends?! Do you care to explain that to me?! I thought I could trust you, Morgan!" the prince allowed his repressed rage to vent.

"I'm afraid I've had what you might call a change of heart," she snickered unsettlingly, brushing a lock of hair out of her face.

"Well, then, beat it! You have no place here! And give me the gemstones!" Inigo insisted.

"You don't seem to understand," she shook her head in a scolding fashion, "I'm taking the gemstones from you."

"Like hell you are," he rebuked.

Her lips shifted into a sardonic smile, "How cute. You know, Inigo, you were always my favorite. And you have the Brand. Maybe we could work something out. You can be at my side, and we'll be with my mother and father in an eternal world, where nothing changes, won't that be grand?" She put a hand to the side of his chest and petted him alluringly.

Again, to his own surprise, Inigo batted it away, "No! No, it doesn't sound grand! Do you hear yourself? Murder everyone to make a perfect microcosm for you and only you? Do you have any idea how selfish that is?"

The light faded from her eyes for a moment, and in that moment, the eyes that Inigo witnessed were no longer sultry, but afraid, panicked, "I… don't care."

"Morgan, please, listen," he implored, "I know you're frightened now, but we can make this work, don't let doubt pervade the purity of you soul. We can fight them, we can win. You were the one who convinced me of that."

"Don't make me kill you, Princey," she scoffed. The stranger's eyes had returned.

"I just want to know why, Morgan. Kill me if you have to, but I want to know what made you turn to… this," he continued to plead.

"My parents were the only ones who ever cared for me, that's plain as day. Your friends have no love for me. That's why. I don't want to be alone anymore, Inigo," she lamented. Even the strange eyes now fell.

"But, you'll be more alone than ever if you kill us all Morgan. And, at any rate, we all do care for you. I don't know what ever put it in your head that we don't but we do," he reaffirmed.

"There can be no convincing me otherwise," she looked away from the blue-haired prince, "this must be done." Inigo's heart sank as she brandished a silver blade at her side.

He lowered his head resignedly, "Fine, do it. I can't bear to live in a world where hope is lost to despair so easily, and the one I care most about has fallen victim to it."

Morgan held the sword above his bent neck, her hands suddenly growing cold. It was as it her extremities had been frozen to the implement as it balanced delicately above him. There was an urging her head, a constant, monstrous growling, insisting that she "Do it!" but Morgan only grasped the blade in front of her, hands shaking feebly. Inigo raised his eyes, but not his head, to her, staring into hers, which had returned to her face. They welled with tears as Morgan's grip released the weapon and it fell harmlessly to Inigo's side. "I can't do it…" she collapsed before the prince, "Gods dammit, I don't have the conviction. I… I can't."

"Morgan?" Inigo hoped. She provided no answer, lying silently in the dirt, unable to utter a word. "It's okay, Morgan," the prince breathed, standing.

"It's not okay. Two people are dead because of me, I was going to kill you… and I couldn't even carry out my own will… I'm a curse of uselessness," she shuddered, folding her face into her arms and assuming a fetal position.

"It wasn't your will, it was Grima, trying to control you somehow, wasn't it?" the prince determined.

"Why do you think that?" she said without breath.

"Your eyes. They weren't your own. I'd seen that sort of color with the Risen before. You weren't yourself, you were just a zombified caricature of the girl we know," he surmised compassionately.

"Doesn't the fact that I'm weak enough that that happened make me useless, anyway?" she continued.

"Only if you give in to the weakness and don't learn from it," he smiled, offering her a hand, "Come with us, Morgan. We can still do this with your help."

"You would give me the benefit of the doubt, even after…?" she dared not remind herself of their names.

"I'm trying to be more like my father. This is the kind of move he would make, for sure. He'd never give up on an old friend," the prince concluded.

"You're more sympathetic than I could ever stand to be, Inigo. I doubt the others will share in your forgiveness, however…" Morgan grasped his hand and felt her weight pulled up.

"They don't have a choice, I'm the captain here," he brushed her aside.

"But you can't control them directly, what's to stop one of them from…" she swallowed hard, "Taking things into their own hands?"

"You could sleep in my tent," he mused, "I'm a very light sleeper."

"Nice try," she scoffed.

"Then how, exactly, do you suppose we can resolve this dilemma?" he pressed.

"I guess I'll just have to for the best, because that," she indicated him, "is not happening."

The two laughed quickly at one another, "Oh, you're breaking my heart."

"Inigo," Morgan sobered and stared at the prince, "You really still accept me? Trust me? Even after what I did?"

"Naturally," he sighed, "I'm not happy about it, but you were afraid, Morgan. I can empathize with that much. You made a poor choice in desperation, but now's the time to rise up from that failure."

"But… won't there always be a hint of doubt?" Morgan watched his eyes.

"Maybe, like a candle in a dark room, what good is faith if there's no doubt for it to overcome?" he smiled grasping her shoulder.

"…Thank you, Inigo," she breathed with a small smile, brushing another lock of hair from her face.

"Come on, we've got some work to do," he began to walk toward the camp, beckoning her.

"You're what?!"

"She's coming with us, Kjelle. I don't give a damn if you don't like it," Inigo shook his head.

"Listen to yourself!" she shoved him into one of the tent's poles, "She murdered two of us! She was prepared to murder you!"

"But she didn't," he reminded.

"Not yet!" Kjelle railed.

"Why are you so opposed to her, Kjelle? You've wanted her out since day one, why is that?!" Inigo yelled back.

"Because, unlike the rest of us, she's not the child of a Shepherd. She's never done anything to prove she earned this position," Kjelle growled.

"Funny, Lucina told me she saved you at least once," Inigo scoffed.

"Hardly," Kjelle rolled her eyes, "I was in no danger, she just happened to strike down a foe who was near me."

"And that's my point," Inigo nodded, sapphire hair bobbing, "She's been fighting alongside us all this time. Does one mistake really account for this condemnation?"

"When that mistake is murdering two of our own, yes!" Kjelle announced, exasperated.

"Kjelle, just accept it, or I'll have you—"

"Captain! Another pair of pegasi!"

Inigo parted the tent flaps, pushing Kjelle out of his way, and looked to the sky again. It was true, another pair of the onyx-colored beasts descended upon the camp. As they landed, the group encircled them. Morgan sidled up to Inigo, watching the creatures carefully. Suddenly, a figure dropped down from one of the beasts' backs. He glared at Inigo as he walked forward a few paces.

At last, he addressed them, "Ylissean. Hand over the gemstones, Falchion, and the Shield, and this will all be nice and easy. I won't even kill your friends… today."

"That's him…" Morgan stuttered.

"Who?" Inigo faced her.

"The sorcerer who killed Brady," she recalled, poking her head out and examining him.

"Sister!" he seemed to take note of her presence, "I was told you were no longer in league with these… miscreants."

"Are you talking to me?" she stepped forward.

"Certainly," he laughed, "you are my sister, aren't you?" She didn't answer, only continued to stare at the black-haired young man. "Do you not remember?" he evaluated her carefully.

"No," she resigned.

"Do you want to?" he let a smug smile overtake his face.

She whipped a tome out from her sleeve and cast a quick jolt of lightning at the sorcerer, which he narrowly avoided, though it struck one of the beasts and its rider behind him, "No."

"You poor damned fool," he lamented.

"Attack!" Inigo commanded his troops. Cynthia struck first, her Pegasus knocking the other rider from his mount. Nah was quick to finish the man off with a burst of her breath. Kjelle hurried forward into the sorcerer, but was caught of guard as he knocked her back with a small burst of dark magic. Inigo charged him next, but was also flung away with the power of the purplish tome clasped in the mysterious sorcerer's hand. Morgan watched as he began to walk over to the fallen forms of her friends. Resolute, she stepped in front of them and raised her arms.

"Sister, out of the way," he chided.

"Not a chance," she shook her head vehemently.

"Do you really think you stand any chance against me?" he cackled.

"Given that you're still talking, I'd say 'yes,'" she quipped.

"Move!" he commanded.

"I'm not going anywhere!" she returned as she drew her silver blade out and swung at the young man. He dodged most of the strike, but the tip caught his side. No blood poured from the wound, as Morgan had expected, however. "That's it," she smiled to herself, "you can't get by me because you're just some magical construct! Empty and hollow, like your master's promises!"

"Doesn't mean I can't kill you. Please, don't do this, sister…" he cautioned.

"Don't give me that," she spat, withdrawing her tome again, "I'm not your sister, that's some trick to get me to follow you. Well, it's not working!" She loosed another bolt, this one striking the young man before he could dodge. He sank to the ground with a shout of agony. "Spare me," Morgan called, walking over to the collapsed form, "You're in no more pain than a tree struck with a rock."

"The blood runs cold, sister, but the heart feels the sad ring of death's knell," he coughed, staring up at the redhead.

"You can drop the act. I know you're not my brother. I just want information: where is your master?" she insisted dully.

"You understand so little, sister. That is the only reason why you stand with these… humans. Petty creatures, the lot of them," he wheezed as she stood over him.

"Speak clearly, or not at all," she held the silver blade to his neck.

"Death doesn't frighten me," he scoffed, "but I do fear for my sister, so I will tell you, you do not stand a chance against Master Grima. He is everything you aspire to be and much greater. Leave the Ylisseans and join him; it is your only salvation."

"Two other questions," Morgan raised her brow with interest, "what is your name? And how came you to serve Grima?"

A smirk swallowed the boy's entire face, "My name is… Morgan. And Master Grima… is an uncle of sorts to me."

"That's enough out of you. Whatever you are, I hope you find rest," Inigo thrust his blade into the fallen body. Still, no blood, but the corpse did not vanish, as did the Risen. The black-haired boy's body lay limp.

"Inigo, that was—"

"Another trick. Morgan, you have to realize your source on all this," Inigo shook his head. "I know it's hard to feel without answers, but this man was a simple murderer."

"So was I," she gazed upon the corpse, "Why did I deserve redemption?"

"Morgan," Inigo put a hand to his face, "don't compare yourself to him. You're different. This one would have never renounced his faith in Grima."

"Maybe so, but…"

"Morgan, there's no sense in dwelling on it. We need to get back to Ylisstol. We can defeat Grima now, you know that, right?"

"Right," her eyes did not deviate from the cadaver.

"And you'll be prepared to do so?"

"Absolutely," she continued to stare at the body, noticing the intricate purple insignia that adorned his neck.

The same dream came again for Morgan, keeping her from sleep. She sat up, as she always did, cold sweat chilling her, keeping her clothes stuck to her body. It was always the same gruesome image: Lucina, a bloody swath cut from her body, a despicably maniacal laugh, and then, a face. A shock to Morgan's body always ended the nightmare, as if she had been impaled with a spear. Indeed, often she rose in the evening and pressed a hand to her chest to ensure that that was not, in fact, the case. Her head darted to the tent flap as she saw the blue-haired prince emerge from behind it.

"Morgan," he hailed, "is everything all right? I thought I heard you scream."

"Just a nightmare," she breathed, reassuring herself.

"You seem to have a multitude of nightmares, Morgan," he commented, seating himself on the side of her bed.

"You'll have to forgive me. I don't know that there's anything to be done for it. Maybe I'm just a frightful sort of person," she rubbed her forehead.

"You? Frightful? Please," he dismissed with a wave of his hand. "You know," he looked to her, "it might help for you to have someone around to reassure you."

"In your dreams," she rolled her eyes.

"No, in _yours_ ," he smiled broadly, proud of his joke.

Morgan groaned in exaggerated distaste, "After that, you're lucky I don't kick you off this damned bed."

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" he asked earnestly.

"Yes," she replied with conviction, "I'm fine. Tired, but fine."

"And you're welcome in my tent anytime you need me," he quipped.

"And you're welcome to go play in the fire," she shoved him playfully off the bed.

"Goodnight, Morgan," he excused himself, laughing.

Morgan settled herself back into the blankets and shut her eyes firmly, working to induce sleep as best she knew how.

* * *

_"Show him, count them again, honey," urged the voice._

_"Onetwothreefourfive—" Morgan began deftly flicking the coins into her palm, counting aloud, as she had been taught. She concentrated on the small, golden plates, past her parents' amazed stares. At last, she reached "One hundred!" and set the stack down._

_"Twice as fast as me!" Morgan heard her mother laud._

_"That's something else," her father shook his head incredulously, "I didn't think anyone could count faster than you, honey." Suddenly, he put a finger to his chin, "Though, that reminds me…" He produced a small volume from a nearby table, "Morgan, would you read this out loud for you mother, sweetheart?"_

_She did so. All thirty pages until she was called to a stop. It was rather tedious to leaf through it all, but the outstanding praise afterward made it worthwhile._

_"Anna, there's something we need to talk about," she heard her father remark._

_"What's that?" her mother chirped._

_"I don't think we should discuss it in front of Morgan," he whispered, putting a hand in front of his mouth to cover his lips and pointing to the little girl behind it._

_"Is something wrong?" her mother's brows knitted in concern._

_"I've got... somewhere to go," he explained enigmatically, shooing her into a nearby room._


	8. ...Is New Again

Lucina sighed again as the chalice shook in her hand. She set it down, but quickly picked it up again and took a long draught from it. The taste wasn't particularly pleasant, but it was all she could do to silence her insipid nerves. She wondered if, perhaps, she was actually more afraid waiting for news than facing the monsters that had otherwise overwhelmed the world.

"Lucina," a small voice caught her off guard. She jumped and a puddle of the burgundy liquid hopped out of the chalice and onto the floor.

"Damn me," she cursed under her breath.

"I did not mean to frighten you," the Divine Dragon's Voice apologized.

"It's quite all right, Lady Tiki, I'm already a bit on edge today. It wasn't your fault," the Exalt explained.

"Then you can sense it as well?" Tiki whispered, "That presence?"

"I'm afraid not," the royal replied, "I'm simply anxious in general. But, please, do tell me about this presence."

"Never you mind that, Lady Lucina, it was probably only a misguided misgiving," Tiki sighed, straightening her hair.

"No, please, I would like to know, even if it turns out to be nothing," Lucina implored.

"I do not wish to worry you any further, Lady Lucina; I can see you are terribly stressed," the Voice dismissed.

"I'll be more stressed if I have to keep worrying about what that prophetic mind of yours is thinking," the Exalt continued.

Tiki took a breath, placing a hand over her chest, she explained, "I have felt a supremely dark presence drawing ever near since this very morning. I… I am fearful we will be attacked soon."

"Why would you withhold that, Lady Tiki? I will heed your warning," Lucina walked to the doorway of the castle and announced, "Gerome, Laurent, Severa, be prepared! Lady Tiki surmises the Fell Dragon to be near, be on your guard."

"Lady Lucina," the Voice scolded, "do not drive them into a panic. Fear is the Fell Dragon's greatest ally."

"We will not falter," Lucina affirmed.

"Such resolve," cackled a deep voice nearby, "most befitting the optimism that stands in starkest ignorance of the facts so possessed by the royalty of House Ylisse."

The pair turned to face the voice, whereupon they were greeted by a figure wearing a long, dark cowl. Lucina replied to it first, "And just who are you?"

Tiki murmured after her, "Angels and ministers of grace protect us, Lucina, that is the Fell Dragon! I can sense his unholy energies!"

"Gods," Lucina allowed a sharp whisper. Quickly, however, she drew Falchion and leaned it toward the Fell Dragon.

He clapped his hands slowly, "Oh, very good, very good. What tipped you off? Was it, perchance, this?!" His hand thrust forward brandishing a foul, wicked-looking blade. Lucina stared in horror as the weapon whipped at her with an incredible velocity. Losing her composure, she felt her eyes wrench shut and heard the sound of a deadly splash, accentuated with the warm, wet sensation of blood staining her clothes. After a moment, however, she opened her eyes again to reveal the blade mere inches from her face, impaled instead through the body of the Divine Dragon's Voice, whose arms hung limply, tears in her eyes.

"Lady Tiki!" Lucina screamed.

"Exalt Lucina… gather the others… hurry… you must make ready," she choked breathlessly.

"Lady Tiki," Lucina cried, "I'm sorry… I was cowardly. That ought to have been me…"

"No… Lucina… not you…" was all the Divine Dragon's Voice could manage before she was slipped unceremoniously off the blade the Fell Dragon wielded.

"Indeed, it ought to have been you. Oh, well," the Fell Dragon sighed mockingly, fanning his open mouth as he yawned, "Now that your _other_ last hope is dead, it's time to do away with the Exalt. What do you say, little noble lady? Ready to lay down and die like the rest?"

"I say… to hell with you!" Lucina barked, kicking at the shadowy man and fleeing from the corridors of the castle.

* * *

"Sleep any better last night?" the prince asked as he and Morgan marched astride one another.

"Better, yes," she replied quickly.

"That doesn't reassure me," he laughed.

"I'm sorry," she ran a hand through her hair, "I'm still working my way through thinking about all of this."

"'All of this?'" Inigo repeated questioningly.

"My dreams, and how the Fell Dragon managed to reach me like that. There's some strange link between us that I can't begin to comprehend," she elaborated.

"Do you think perhaps your parents were Grimleal?" Inigo asked.

"You mean 'do I think they worshipped the Fell Dragon?' No," Morgan dismissed.

"I ask only because Lucina and I have both experienced similar… charges: the consideration that the Divine Dragon had been speaking to us," the prince clarified.

"I believe you were the one convincing me the Fell Dragon had no place in my lineage," she looked at him askance.

"That's not really what I meant," he shook his head, "I'm just looking for an explanation that can satisfy both your and my curiosity."

Morgan, now a few paces ahead, shook her head and laughed in a manner that rung rather strangely to Inigo's ear. She sighed into her palm and bent her head, "Gods."

"What's the matter, Morgan?" he caught up.

"This is it, isn't it? The end of the road. Nowhere left to go, just this impossible fight left ahead of us," she breathed, staring at the ground.

"It's much less impossible thanks to everyone else, yourself included," he patted her back, careful to place a hand on her shoulder.

She scoffed, then smiled at the prince, "Thanks. And, Inigo…"

"Yeeeeees?" he wore an enormous grin.

"I guess you haven't been the _worst_ friend a girl could have. Close, but not the worst," she snickered.

"You're so mean," he pouted, "and I'm okay with that." He paused to consider, the added, "I mean, you need to have at least _one_ friend among us, you psychopath."

"You son of a bitch," she slapped his back hard.

"Ah-ah-ah," he tutted, "I know who _my_ parents were."

"Oh, you are so dead," she moved to punch him.

He grabbed her arms, "I don't think so!" The pair struggled playfully, Morgan working her best to wrench her arms from his grip and Inigo teasing her, holding her hands over their heads. Eventually, she gave in, sputtering, dropping her arms in exhaustion and frustration. "I win," Inigo declared triumphantly.

"Yeah, yeah, you've got stronger arms than a poor, defenseless little girl. Good for you, hero. I'm still the brains of this operation," Morgan composed herself.

"Not to mention the heart," he grinned.

She scoffed, but the smile painted on her face belied the rolling of her eyes at the remark, "Why does this fell familiar?"

"Milord."

Inigo leapt nearly a foot into the air before realizing Kjelle was walking at his side. He tried unsuccessfully to recover, "W-What is it, Kjelle?"

"As you may well be aware, Ylisstol is only about ten minutes' march from now. Are you prepared for the worst?" she droned.

"Y-yes, I think I'll do just fine Kjelle. Get the others ready. And maybe start wearing a bell or something, gods," Inigo shook his head.

"Milord," she left.

"You are so pathetic," Morgan smirked happily.

"Ready?" Inigo asked, his face grave.

"Ready," she reaffirmed.

* * *

"Now, then. If you're finished running around like the headless chicken you are, I'd like to visit death upon you," the hooded figure cackled.

"D-Dammit," Lucina gritted her teeth. There really wouldn't be any way out of this, would there? How could she get Falchion to Inigo? Was there a way?

"What will it be, princess?!" The Fell Dragon roared, a ferocious anger staining his voice, "Will you run and leave your friends to die, or stand and die among them?"

"Lucina, just get a move on," Severa spat, sauntering in front of her, blocking the Fell Dragon.

"Severa…" she blurted, "You don't have to do this…"

"My mother was a Pegasus knight, bound to protect the Exalt. This is my duty," Severa dismissed, holding her ground.

"I'll not be relegated to a minor role in this, our final chance at salvation, either," Laurent stepped forward, adjusting his hat, gripping his tome with a twitching hand, "A shield twice as thick is twice as strong." He turned to stare at Lucina, "And will shoulder burden twice as long."

A half-sarcastic sigh arose as Minerva sauntered forward, assuming position next to Severa. "I suppose I always knew this day was coming. By Laurent's logic, a shield thrice as thick is ever the more superior, but with Minerva, we make four. Lucina! Leave this… creature to us. Do whatever you can," Gerome grunted.

"Touching," the Fell Dragon sighed exasperatedly, resting his head on his hand and wearing a wearied expression, "but do you think you could end this little passion play today? I have other humans to kill…" His mouth contorted into a vicious smirk, "Oh, wait, no I don't."

"W-What? The others…" Lucina started.

"Are all dead. I sent my most elite troops after them. They are surely dead," the Fell Dragon surmised.

"You don't sound too sure," Severa sneered.

"Indeed. If they were, in fact, dead, you would have proof," Laurent concluded, "You don't. Ergo, they are not dead. Come now, I thought you meant to kill us. Or are you all sardonic quips?"

"Oh, it's positively adorable how you all cling to petty hopes, reassuring one another. It's so sweet I'm liable to vomit," the Fell Dragon spat, altering his stance.

"Lucina!" Gerome insisted again.

She couldn't bring herself to move. She became aware of the weight of the pleated iron boots that adorned her feet, the same material she felt on her chest, crushing her, suffocating her. Her eyes narrowed in fear as she stood dumbly, staring the beast in the face.

"Oh, enough out of you, already," a voice declared. All heads turned to face it. Morgan and Inigo leapt forward, hopping off of Cynthia's Pegasus.

"Inigo," Severa remarked, surprised.

"Miss me?" he grinned.

"Focus!" she insisted with a scolding glare.

"Morgan," Lucina called out to her comrade.

"Right here, Lucina."

"Thank you," she sighed at the sight of her brother.

"Time to pay!" Cynthia announced from her Pegasus, assuming a position next to her assembled friends.

"Make the taguel proud!" Yarne commanded himself, the whispered, "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine…" as he settled into the group.

"Finally," the ghost of a smile traced across Kjelle's face as she fell in line, "the only worthy opponent."

"I-I'm not scared of you. Not anymore," Nah assumed her dragon form and flapped idly beside her friends.

"M-Me either," Noire swallowed, her determination equally clear as she trained her bow on the beast.

Morgan and Inigo fell in on either side of the Exalt. She smiled appreciatively to the redhead, "This is it. Our final battle. Are you ready to change our fates, Morgan?"

"Ready," Morgan declared without thought. The two began a shouting charge forward, the remaining group parting like a sea before them, taking to either side as Risen emerged to strike at them. Morgan concentrated on the creature as she rushed forward, and leapt into a blast from her wind tome. The Fell Dragon suffered it, relatively unperturbed, but Morgan halted in her tracks.

"Morgan, what are you doing?" the Exalt cried, "Make ready!" A sudden, thunderous rumble heralded the arrival of a massive amethyst spike which drove forth, out from the ground and tore into the Exalt's side, causing her to collapse to a sliding contact with the ground, gasping in horrified pain and clutching the wound desperately.

"Gods," was all Morgan could utter.

"Morgan, what's going on?!" roared Inigo.

She stared at the entity before her, "The Fell Dragon… that's… my father."

"What?!"

"There's no doubt about it," she took a few careful steps toward him.

"Morgan!" Inigo called, "This is probably another of his illusions! Stay focused!"

She shook her head, taking a few more steps forward, "No… this is my father."

"Not anymore, he isn't! Morgan, please!" Inigo beckoned.

The face of her father stared back at Morgan as if it were unsure of what to make of her. She could trace his gaze: he first examined her hair, then inspected her clothes, and, finally, met her eyes. There was an unpleasantness about his face, not in the sense that he was wicked, but rather that he was genuinely upset or disappointed. He continued to stare at her quizzically.

"Father," she finally managed, "it's me, Morgan. Do you remember me?"

The figure moved his head. Was it a nod? Morgan couldn't be certain; it had been too quick and too subtle. He cast his eyes down a moment, then, meeting hers again, his lips began to move. No words came from them, however; there was no voice to the gesture, but the message was clear as Morgan watched him repeat it a few times: "I'm sorry," traced across his mouth, over and over again.

"It's all right, father. It's all right," she consoled, drawing still nearer.

He shook his head, gesturing away from himself. An idea made itself known on his face, and within a moment he reached into one of the pockets of his cloak. He produced a gold band with a glittering white diamond atop it. Evaluating the item carefully in his hand for a moment, he tossed it casually to the redheaded girl, who caught it and opened her own palm to study it. She recognized this, too, the wedding ring her mother had worn. Where was she? Morgan doubted she wanted to know.

"Uncle?" Lucina's voice arose, weak and confused.

"It seems you have a number of family ties among us," Morgan joked unwittingly to her father.

His eyes closed and jaw tensed, the lips finally curling into a smile. A broad smile, the type Morgan had recalled from her days at home. One whose laughter and warm spirit were implied in the simple curvature of the face. "Morgan," the lips parted at last.

"Father…" she reciprocated.

"I love you. End this. I don't want to hurt anyone anymore," he grunted weakly, the strain nearly breaking his voice altogether.

"Father… I can't," she admitted.

"You have to," he dismissed, "you're a strong girl, Morgan, stronger than me. Stronger than any bonds of fate may determine you to be. Let this be the end of the pain, for all of us."

Morgan couldn't bring herself to speak. Shortly, Inigo sidled up beside her, "Morgan, there's no time left, we have to bring this to an end! Now, when he is weakened, we have the perfect opportunity!"

"But… my father," she contended weakly.

"I'm sorry, Morgan, but all I know is that the Fell Dragon now kneels before me, I can't waste that chance," he sighed, clenching his fist around the hilt of Falchion; he had taken it from Lucina.

"What are you going to do?" Morgan asked, as if it were a question.

"I'm going to use the power of the gemstones, the Emblem, and Falchion to seal the Fell Dragon once and for all," he strode forward with determination, eyes smoldering.

"Wait," she leapt out in front of him, pressing her hand into his chest to stop him, "Let me."

"Morgan, you can't, you're not of the Exalted bloodline," he hurried, "Now, please, stand down."

"No," she dismissed, "my lineage is much more significant than that."

"What do you mean?" his eyes finally acknowledged her.

"I mean, I think I can bring an end to the Fell Dragon," she captured his determination.

"Morgan, what are you doing?" he called her as she proceeded forward.

She quickened her pace, jogging, then sprinting, toward her father, removing the special tome from her sleeve, the one with the sky blue cover that she had sworn never to use because of how special it seemed.

"Morgan!" Inigo called again, endeavoring to catch up to her, "Don't do this!"

"Grima!" she announced aloud, "The despair you've created, the shadow you've long since draped over this world must be lifted!"

The kneeling figure stood, now, and, Morgan realized, regained the strange, sickly purplish aura that had enveloped his form before. Deciding there was no time left to waste, Morgan chanted the words as she opened the tome, flinging the spell. A brilliant light ripped open into the form before her and she heard a visceral roar of pain. As the light subsided, the figure had dropped to his knees again. She stood over him, tome at the ready, and watched the figure carefully.

"Gloat if you want, death will always be upon you!" snarled a deep, unsettling voice.

"Hurry," insisted another from the same mouth. She hesitated a moment at the sound of that voice.

"I'm sorry our last meeting had to be under such… grave circumstances," another weak smile consumed her father's face, "but you've made me very proud, Morgan. Now, do your father one last favor, and set things right."

"Yes, father," she obeyed, tears in her eyes. She raised the tome again, chanted the words, and the light fell onto him again. She stared into his eyes as he began to fade away into the light. There, at last, was some relief. Soon, Morgan, too, felt herself fading, as if she had been in a dream.

"Morgan, what's happening?!" Inigo cried desperately; he had caught up and now stood before her.

"I suppose since the Fell Dragon was a part of me, I have to go now," she sighed, not discontented.

"But what about… us? Morgan, I need you," he begged.

"Ylisse's crown-prince philanderer? No, you'll find some other sweet little lass to keep you and your crown together," she smiled.

"No one could replace you, Morgan," he continued, "I've never met anyone quite like you."

"No, you haven't," she smirked, "but you'll get over it."

"You are just the worst," smiled, too, tears in his eyes, "You came all the way here just to make me fall in love with you, and now you're leaving, just like that."

"Sorry," her eyes shut, "I just go where the wind takes me. I'm kind of a whimsical girl."

"I noticed."

"Thank you, Inigo, for all you and your friends have given me," she nodded, as Inigo could see she was fading into nothingness, "I love you."

He grasped for her hand, to, who knew? To shake it, to kiss it, just to touch it was the thing, he wanted so badly to feel something as he reached out, but, suddenly, as if she had never been there to begin with, she was gone. Inigo's eyes fell as his open palm did the same.

"Inigo," a voice breathed at length, he recognized it as his sister's. Turning his head, he found her weight supported on Gerome's shoulder.

"Lucy," he nodded, "thank gods. I thought you had been…"

"There are no gods to thank, just Gerome here," she smiled weakly.

"If she's not given medical attention soon, there won't be any gods who can save her, either," he grunted in a signature buried, gravelly voice.

"Right, see to it," Inigo nodded and the two parted. As he stood, Inigo watched the others begin to congregate around him.

"Way to go, Inigo! That was pretty cool!" Cynthia cheered. He Pegasus whinnied in affirmation.

"Thank you, but it had nothing to do with me. Morgan is the one who saved us all," he sighed, forlorn.

"You assumed your duty, even when all was in chaos, milord. You have done well," Kjelle asserted, dusting off her armor.

"That is… unexpected praise. Thank you, Kjelle. Thank you, all of you, for your dedication in making this come to pass. It is to your credit that we all survived. And while we have not been without loss, the future of all of humanity cannot be found without sacrifice, and now it is brighter than any might have ever predicted. Let us be assured on this day that we will trace a path toward a brighter future for ourselves and our children, a perfect world, without wars that leave daughters and sons pining for the lost embrace of their forgotten parents," Inigo declared.

"Naga tells me she thanks you all for your service, and that those lost will enjoy happiness eternal for their sacrifice," Nah smiled, hands clasped toward the sky.

And as Chrom's New Shepherds departed from the battlefield that day, they each of them took from their battle with the unfeeling hand of destiny the strength to carry on into the uncertainty of the future, striving to shape a better world for those who would still inhabit it.

Lucina was healed, but crippled severely by her wounds in the battle and, ultimately, relinquished the title of Exalt to her younger brother, who agreed to accept it, fearing the stress of rebuilding a nation may weigh too heavily on his wounded and wearied sister. For months at a time, she found company in Gerome, who claimed to continue returning only to keep tabs on her, but whom, many suspected, had grown fond of her.

Inigo, inexperienced and controversial a leader though he was, made great strides as Exalt, repairing the cities of Ylisse to their former glory one step at a time, sending dispatches to discover and save remaining refuges of humanity, and keeping the landscape free of lingering Risen. As had been predicted, he took a wife for the purposes of fathering a family, and loved her well, but never allowed himself to forget the disappearance of the mysterious redhead who had once graced his heart.

In flight from danger, Yarne discovered a companion in Noire, who followed him even as conservationists shadowed their every step. Noire was strangely relieved to have eyes on her all the time, although the conservationists' demands of her were often rather… forward.

Nah acted as the Divine Dragon's Voice after Tiki had been lost. She preached the need to bring an end to conflict and for all people to come together in a unified effort to protect the world they had been so blessed as to have the chance to inherit again. Laurent appeared at her sermons often, claiming her link to Naga to be an intellectual curiosity of his.

Cynthia and Severa, both without much to do at the war's conclusion, ultimately decided to fly as the Pegasus knights of old, serving their Exalt faithfully for the entirety of his benevolent tenure. Severa was, at first, as always, less than pleased to be serving Inigo, but was impressed with the way he seemed to mature from his days of philandering almost immediately after assuming the throne. She often wondered if there was something deeper to the graveness about his face, considering if something had changed since those days.

Kjelle, too, continued to serve as the right hand of the Exalt and Ylisse's royal family so long as she lived. She was rather disappointed about the lack of worthwhile fighting until Inigo let her desire for challengers be known to the public. Men and women alike from far and wide lined up for a chance to contend with one of the slayers of the Fell Dragon. Many were disappointed, but Kjelle was always pleased.

* * *

With a tremendous exhale, the redhead sat up. She found herself in a meadow, or would it be a field? It didn't seem to matter. After a moment, she found a rather curious formation of obsidian-like rocks, surrounded by shimmering pools of indigo water. She found herself attracted to the spot, realizing only upon entering it that she was having quite a bit of difficulty remembering what had happened to her. Further still, the area was crawling with hideous monsters! Morgan found herself rather nervous until she met with a familiar face, out of a crowd that was on the other side of the odd formation.

"There you are, father! I was beginning to think we got separated."

"…I'm sorry, what?"

She fondled a ring between her fingers in her pocket.


End file.
